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hwan-g · 11 months

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I WAS ALL OVER HER. (bang chan)

pair. ex soldier! chris x fem! reader | genre. attraction at first sight, bartender mc, angst, smut | warnings. smoking, profanity, mentions of trauma, mental struggle, flawed characters, alcohol consumption, use of pet names, sexual thoughts, unprotected sex, dirty talk, cunnilingus | word count. 5.7k

synopsis. you get off exactly at two o’clock every night. chris is patient—he drinks, and watches. you don’t look very happy where you are. he wants to change that, wants to know why. he’s not happy, either. but he could be, maybe. with you. for you.

Every man in there has been flirting with you.

You appear oblivious to it, and maybe that’s exactly it—a pretense, a hoax, because this is how you pay the bills and keep your job, and now Chris sees you under a different light, no more the deer in the headlights, but rather the car heading straight for the poor animal, foot on the gas, unyielding.

Not quite so innocent, and nothing about this place is. Lee Minho’s own bar, his pride and joy, bleeding reds and yellows, a jukebox from the late eighties bought at an auction placed aesthetically by the window wall with the neon sign and the street lamps outside. It’s all very purposeful, very strategic. A house of cards, if you ask the man sitting at the bar, sporting a whiskey-on-the-rocks in his strong hand, but what isn’t? Everything collapsing, all at once, constantly—he’s seen that, too, a thousand times.

His rib cage feels restricting, his breath hitches. You’re bending over the ice cooler, and he can clearly see the trace of your underwear underneath the black linen skirt. Your ass curves deliciously, and his palms are suddenly itchy. No, Chris is no different than the men polluting this establishment, nor has he ever claimed to be. He’ll show you a good time if you’re up for it, but he won’t beg, won’t even pick up the courage to flirt his way into that sinful fucking skirt. Black suits you.

He doesn’t stand a chance. And he’s not a creep, not for the most part, at least.

He’s been a regular, though. You know his name and he knows yours. He heard about your grandma passing and that one time your car broke down in the middle of nowhere and you had no one to call except for your boss. He almost volunteered that night; almost opened his stupid mouth, muttered something he would never be able to take back—you can call me, I’ll always come—but he didn’t, because there had also been a boyfriend for a while back then, too. Tall and lanky, covered in tattoos and bad decisions. Chris knows all about those, but what he didn’t know—

What you saw in that guy. How he took you home once and then kept taking you, in multiple ways he supposed, burying between your legs, kissing your lips and laying a claim on you everytime he got the goddamn chance—he’s glad the fucker’s gone, but not glad for the broken heart and the tears. Oh, and the shots. You’d been too drunk to stand, could barely talk. Still, Chris wasn’t the one to take care of you then, either, though he’d jumped out of his chair the moment he saw you swaying. Hands as fists, teeth clenched, he saw Minho carry you to the back, then called for Jisung to come and close the bar for the night.

He’d been an observer his whole life. And when he wasn’t—when he showed up, took initiative, buzzed his hair and made a choice—it all went to shit. Two years of goddamn sand, sunburns, bullets scratching past his thick fucking head, innocent civilians dying before his eyes, his own arms raising a rifle, pointing, threatening. Killing. Lots of that, mostly that, and orders. So many fucking orders he could recite them in his sleep, if he had any of that. Insomnia was a hell of a bitch, as it turns out, and she’ll see you know that. She’ll make sure of it.

Sergeant, take your comrade and go back! This is an order from your captain. Do you fucking hear me? It was a suicide mission, for fuck’s sake—

But enough of that. He does a lot of remembering on his own. He’s there to forget about it all for a while. He’s there to look at you, to observe your hands fixing other men drinks, to fantasize having those same hands wrapped around his cock, to feel how they would work him over the edge, how much or how little you’d squeeze, if you’d take him in your mouth, how your lips would pucker to suck him in, his head falling back, breathing rugged, his entire body in full attention, very similar to his training days, mud up to his knees—

It’s only been six months. You’ll go back to normal in no time, they’d said. If you have any concerns, don’t hesitate to give us a call on our office number. He had a lot of those. Concerns. Mostly about the dead people behind closed eyelids, how they moved and moaned his name even though he never told them, or just the simple fucking question of his mind—it’s all jumbled now, it replays memories like a broken record, and cannot seem to shut the fuck up, not even for a single moment. Chris feels like he’s drowning, most of his days. Neck deep in water, surrounded by bulletproof glass, no way in, no way out. What to do about that?

Leave a message after the beep, apparently. We’ll get to you as soon as we can.

He’d like to flirt with you. He’d like to say one thing and then keep pouring out, keep saying, keep talking, if only to have your eyes on him, to keep your gaze trained on him, to have your undivided attention. But to hear your voice reply back, to invest in him, to listen and have words for him. He craves your words, the way your mouth would curve around the syllables, how your lipstick will coat your sentences, so that when they travel they reach their destination sweeter than ever.

Chris is starved. Of many things, yes, but of what you have to offer him. Of what he wants to ask of you. It’s a specific hunger, wanting you, one that’s hard to shake. So, he doesn’t. He couldn’t possibly.

The men continue ogling. He considers it a mercy to let them—to his friend, but to you, also. ‘Heaven knows I’m miserable now’ starts playing on the old piece of junk in the corner, the guy responsible for the choice of song going back to his booth, cherry cigarette glinting amongst a rain of color. Chris tries not to smoke in front of you, you’ve probably inhaled enough of it to last you a lifetime, but it’s times like these, times he can’t seem to stand himself—

“Really, Al?” You ask the record player, and the man shrugs, lifts his glass your way.

“It’s one of those days, doll.”

It is, indeed.

“And you?”

It takes Chris a full five seconds to realize you’re addressing him. Why? Which God should he thank? And how to form coherent sentences when your eyes are piercing through him like a million knives? He wraps his hand tighter around his drink, hoping you don’t notice how undone, how completely in your web he is now—a caving man, ready to fall on his knees for you. You could do anything you want, you could spit at him for all he cared, kick his sorry ass out, as long as you didn’t take your eyes away.

His voice comes out raspy, distorted. Alien. A false sense of confidence.

“What about me, sweetheart?”

Your cheeks are flushed, your eyebrows knit together as if you don’t quite understand what he’s asking. His eyes travel to where your shirt has ridden up to reveal the soft skin of your waist, though he doesn’t let himself indulge too long. Chris would love to have you under him, to guide your hands over his bullet wounds and his own down the hills and mountains of you. But how to get you away from here, how to take a girl like you from this impenetrable tower he’s locked you in. He laid down the bricks, he cemented you in place to keep you out of his life, when all he’s ever wanted to do was let you take over everything, let you annihilate, destroy, build anew.

He really can’t fucking stand himself.

“You look sad, Chris.”

I’m sorry. His fingers search for the pack in his jacket, slipping a stick between his teeth, bringing the flame close, and inhaling. You blink and busy yourself with wiping down the counter, but he can tell you don’t like it when he smokes, him in particular, a question mark he’s burning to know the answer to. Do you care? Do you care like I do?

How simple it’d be, to be sad. A state that will pass, chemistry of the brain that can easily be overturned, switched with a quick fix of serotonin. It almost makes him laugh. No, what he is—wretched, forlorn. A rotting corpse somewhere in the Middle East. If he were to guess, he came back, some fucking semblance of him, only for you. And he’s fucking it up, he’s letting you slip right through his very hands. You’re single now, but for how long? How fucking long will it take for him to grow the balls and tell you straight up?

Tear me apart and put me back together. I’ve been in love with you since the moment I saw you. I’m all fucking wrong now, but you can fix me. God, I’ll let you. Say the word and I’ll let you.

His lips quirk, a bitterness enveloping him. “Yeah? Is that what I am?”

You turn your back to leave a beer to the man on the other side of the bar, and he misses you already. Chris obliges you when you look ready to make small talk with him. He’s even cracked a joke or two on occasion, just to feel that constricting feeling in his chest again, the one that warms his bones and makes his ears ring. The sound of your laughter is intoxicating, unlike anything he’s ever heard, but much like a bomb. Devastating. Impossible to ignore. Today’s not one of those days.

The clock on the wall reads one-fifteen. He’s faintly aware of the sputtering on the window, the rain that’s coming or is already here. He’ll have to go home soon. He wonders if you’ll come. He wonders if he’ll ask you to.

When you turn around, he thinks the rainbow’s already out. The worst has passed.

And then you lean in. Towards him. The cigarette in his mouth stills, his heart stops. He can smell you, the sweetness of you, the warmth of your hair, and he’s surely dreaming. You’ve never done that before. He’s never let you. But you’re here now, so close he could exhale in your mouth, so close there’d be a misunderstanding, could be considered an invitation—

“I’m here if you need to talk, you know?” Your eyes are real empathetic. They make him sick to his stomach.

Deflect, deflect, deflect. Brick after brick.

“There’s nothing to say, baby girl.” Tell me what shampoo you use. Do you have trouble sleeping at night? What are you doing in this bar?

Let me take you away. Come with me.

You don’t believe him. “Promise?”

The side of his mouth curves again. He muses at the cherry between his thumb and index. “Scout’s honor.”

You walk away from him, time and time again. Angel hair framing, devil’s body swaying, those fucking lips taunting.

“If you say so, Christopher Bang.”

What do I know, sweetheart. What do I fucking know.

He waits. He’s real good at waiting, too.

Chris thinks about your proximity earlier and can’t seem to let it fucking go. In that same sense, he could do anything, and he ponders over that leaning against the exit, knowing you’re in the background of him, sweeping, putting chairs up, washing the glass his lips have touched, and isn’t that a closeness as well, a different one, one that matters more than anything else or ever?

He feels like he’s on the verge of something tonight, and for once he’d like to know what it is. He wants to screw concepts like control and restrain and just grab you—hold you—press his nose against your cheek. You’re such a vague emotion for him, he doesn’t know what to do with you, how to start, he just wants, he just craves, and that same hunger stirs again, the one that never goes away, the one that started the first night he ever set foot in this place, the soft opening, and he saw you, and you looked at him, and he was gone.

Have you ever felt that way? Do you want to? Is it even a sane feeling to have? It never ends for him, never stops. Not the war, not you, not the orders, and maybe control isn’t so overrated, maybe he still has time to pull it all together enough to walk to his car and go sleep it off on his empty bed with the colorless sheets and the humidity that clings on and to and from everything.

His waiting had a purpose, though. He has to go through with it.

Hyunjin, your little helper on Saturday’s, comes out the door with a backpack strap on one shoulder, cig drooping between full lips, brown hair falling out of a loose bun. Chris barely glances at him, before tapping his boot on the cobblestone underneath him, and focusing his gaze back towards the light coming from the street lamp on the other side of the street. It’s drizzling now, but he wishes to see that magnificent lightning crack once more, to feel thunder under his skin, the water pouring down on him like karma from times passed.

Some sort of punishment, surely, he deserves. He fought for a country that won’t even acknowledge him, lost friends he’s known since he was four years old learning how to ride a bicycle, and his mind is somewhere left behind trying to dig itself out of the thick of it, and for that—surely, surely for that—redemption will not come, but cruelness? Cruelness must. It has to.

“She’s been sleeping with Minho, you know,” the pretty boy says exhaling clouds of smoke. Chris watches them morph then dissolve into nothing.

He knew that. It was bound to happen at some point.

“You come so often and yet never say anything at all, man. What do you think she’s gonna do? Wait?”

There’s humor in that, he supposes. Wait, yes, one option. He has, he thinks, for so long. It’s never crossed his mind to stop, to look elsewhere, to find someone else. It’s who he is, it’s how it works with him. But were you anything else besides a princess locked in a tower with a dragon, a tower he’d build you, and it keeps coming up because it’s true, it won’t seize just because it doesn’t fit the narrative in his stupid head. He has no right to feel anger, no reason why he should feel wronged. Minho is your boss, you’ve worked for him for a good while, you’re pretty, beautiful, fuck, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, ever had the privilege to lay eyes upon, and Minho’s cunning. Handsome. Successful.

Why the hell not? No, he doesn’t fault you. He can’t.

It doesn’t sting less coming from someone else.

Chris asks what is obvious. “How’d you know? About me?”

Hyunjin lifts his hands in front of him. “Tunnel vision. It’s like you see no one else,” he pauses to take another drag of what looks like a Camel. “Kinda obsessive, don’t you think?”

Yes. If I knew better I’d walk away right now. But he won’t. Because he doesn’t care that someone else has you, has had you, will eventually have you. It’s you he wants, not the pretty packaging, no matter the fantasies and hard ons. You, he wants to talk to you, bring you in his car and dissect you, learn about you, hear you speak, let you address him how you do—Christopher—his full name taking shape, blooming, transforming into something else just because it came out of your mouth.

He’s never let himself think about kissing you, not really. But, God, would that feel a resurrection.

The door opens again.

“Hyun, what—oh.”

The boy smiles, dips his head at Chris and walks away, two fingers up and swiftly moving as goodbye. Your phone is pressed on your ear, and you look tired. He was wrong to sit there and demand. He was wrong to expect, to assume. Embarrassment creeps, and the back of his neck feels hot. He bites on his tongue and tastes metal.

“I’ll call you back,” you say to the person on the other end of the line. “Yeah, no, maybe not tonight. Okay,” your eyes on him. “Okay, bye.”

He can’t help himself. “You had plans.”

Your lips curve, and your skirt is so fucking short. He could bend you over right then and there. He could have his way with you, and walk away forever. Get you out of his system, strip you from him. How easy it all sounds.

“I have new ones now,” you simply say, and take a step towards him. “Why are you still here, Chris?”

You’re begging him for the truth. This time he thinks he can give it to you. “Because you’re here.”

You blink and shift on your legs. Your boots are black, leather. Tall. Still not taller than him. You look into him like you know him and it pisses him off. He wants you so badly his insides twist and turn against him. He could die with this want, he almost has. Move closer. Reach out. Keep your eyes on mine.

I could fuck you so good. Almost as good as you fuck me.

“And that means?”

He swallows. He doesn’t think. “Whatever you allow it to mean.”

Your huff is bitter, your gaze manic. You’ve had a few drinks, laughed with a couple customers, let them slip you tips and led them on until you couldn’t, and he watched it all. He won’t say it out loud, but you’re a bit of a slut, aren’t you. If so, why don’t you give out? Why must you starve him like this?

He lights another cigarette just to see you care again.

You click your tongue on the roof of your mouth, and glare at him. He grins. You shake your head, and cross your arms, fake mad. Look how good you’re playing this game. What if you played forever? What if you played it in his bed or his car?

“I’ve fucked your friends,” you admit, but he thinks it’s supposed to hurt, because there’s an edge to your voice. “Jisung still has my clothes. Minho thought we were gonna fuck in the back after work yesterday. I almost let him. His fingers were inside my cunt for the longest.”

I could kill them. I could wear the arms that aren’t mine and pick up a gun again. But you want this reaction.

“Is that so, sweetheart,” he says carefully, concealing any sign of acid jealousy running rampant inside of him.

“You didn’t come yesterday.”

You do care. I can’t believe it took me this long to see it.

“I didn’t think you wanted me to.”

“You are a blind man, Christopher,” you scorn him, eyes turning vile.

He’s losing you before he’s even had you. You told him loud and clear, and he still won’t dare lift his hands from his ears. This needs to be something more. He needs to make it so, build on it. The smoke burns his eyes, burns you. Let it burn me alive. He had you, somehow. He walked the line, treaded carefully, and found you in the middle, like a mirage. Where you weren’t before, you appeared suddenly. It had been like that for a while, and he’d never dared lift his head up, in fear you disappeared, in fear of missing you.

“Show me, then,” he rasped. He watched your hands as you locked the entrance, as you hesitated to turn back. “Come with me.”

You were hurt. “And let you become one of them? You’re not one of them, Chris.”

You’re right. They’ll never want you like I do. But to go from one point to the next—something needed to give.

“I won’t touch you,” he licked his lips, stepping back, stepping down. “I swear it.”

Something he didn’t expect you to do—snatch the Marlboro right out of his mouth, stick it in yours. Your saliva mixing, the tobacco running down your throats, blackening your lungs. He was staring. You looked back just as defiantly. The rain was nowhere to be seen.

She’s testing me. Measuring up.

“Fucking liar,” you accuse. “Say that again and look at me straight.”

Chris started walking, instead. You exclaimed and laughed triumphantly. But if you followed, he didn’t check. He almost didn’t want you to, couldn’t trust himself with the promise he made, and isn’t that how he mostly gets himself in trouble—words that can’t seem to match his actions. He’s fucked himself over too many times like this. Surely there’s some sort of award for that.

“You have been nothing but a coward and that’s why you’re running away, even now, even knowing what you know.”

The need to make you shut up was raw and primal. It made his teeth grit, his fists clench. It also made him stop dead in his tracks.

“What do you know about running away, baby girl?” He spat, turning his head half way. “You think it’s easy?”

He heard them, then. Your footsteps.

He almost smiled, the crazy bastard.

“Yes, I do,” you retorted stubbornly. “My ride is gone and I stayed. What do you think that means?”

Don’t love me. Don’t get in the same pit, six feet under.

“You’re playing with me.”

“No more than you are with me.”

It took exactly three strides to reach you, to bury his fist in your hair and bring your face flush against his. Your breath hitched, your eyes grew wide, wild—he’d caught you off guard, he was rough, angry, furious. If he passed his forearm under your ass you’d shoot your legs up and around his waist in surprise, perhaps desire even, that was simple to calculate, but—what then?

Chris would fuck you tonight. He knew fuck all about anything else that had to do with you, but your very scent spoke to him. You were turned on, you were fucking wet. For him. Your knees squeezed together, he felt it against his pants. He bets you can feel him, as well. He wanted you to.

“Dangerous path you’re treading there,” he mumbles against your mouth. His fingers dig deeper in your scalp, he wants to feel your heartbeat over his, he wants it to accelerate, to make you dizzy, to surrender, to give in, finally, for fuck’s sake. “We’re not very good at bluffing with each other, are we, baby girl?”

You did something, then, something he hadn’t counted on—you leaned in, you let go. Chris almost flinched away, almost locked you back in that room, in that tower, away away away.

“You should kiss me,” barely a whisper, barely a command. “I want you to kiss me.”

There was no logic behind that, if that were to happen he’d— “I’m not gonna stop,” he warns, pleads. “I have—I have been starving for you…for so long, (Y/N). If you know what you’re doing, know I’m not gonna stop.”

You blinked, and then you smiled. “No one’s stopping you.”

He continued, entranced, drunk, insane, “I’m not going to fucking be one of them. You’re gonna stay with me. We’re gonna give this a try.”

“You’re delusional.”

You kiss him first. You end it first.

His car is right there, so close, so far, but he’s clutching your shirt, your hair, your face, your hip, and it’s so fucking hot, no, you are, you’re the hottest thing he’s ever touched, he could burst into ashes and smoke right there if it were possible, perhaps he wants to, perhaps making the first move was never an option for him—

Your teeth click against his and it hurts but it feels good, like violence, like the battlefield, and he wants to show you—what the bullet feels like piercing the skin, what hands as guns are capable of, how truly terrifying it is to not be in control of your own life, of your own destiny; Chris is sure you’re holding that red string for the both of you. You could snap it, twist it, break it. Maybe you should. Maybe there’s still time to put a full stop to this, the what if’s are too many, his head is spinning, his cock is fully erect, he’s—

Fuck him, he’s really holding you right now, isn’t he? He’s backtracking you to privacy, he’s looking for the keys in his back pocket, and you’re going along with it like you would’ve all along. It pisses him off. He wants to tear you apart, limb from limb, not quite aware of how dark that sounds, only the insistent pulse of hunger present.

“Don’t hold back,” you breathe into him. He staggers, scared of your thought-reading abilities. “Not for my sake.”

There’s one bone chilling moment where he pulls back and stares at you. In the feverish dream, he could pretend this was all make believe, that he had most likely passed out on the bar stool waiting for you to close, or even further, that he was still choking down sand next to dead bodies and machine guns—to actually—actually think you craved something like this?

After all the pushing and pulling? After Jisung’s embarrassed unanswered calls, Minho’s obnoxious smirk, Hyunjin’s shame inducing comments?

“You want this,” he tests, stricken. Confused.

You dare roll your eyes at him, closing the door after you. You’re properly straddling him now, your core pressing where he needs you most, and his hips buck, instinctively, his arms steadying you unconsciously. He wants to do it again, goes for it, but you meet him halfway, and it’s as good an answer as any. What comes out of your mouth, not quite a moan or a quiver—heaven, it must be, the gates opening, welcoming.

“I’m here, Christopher,” you say, and—

Say it again. Say it again and again and again. Look at me. Don’t take your eyes off me.

“Isn’t that enough? Get it through your head or I’m leaving.”

He does. He tries. He undresses you slowly, whatever he can reach, whatever’s accessible, and you let him, you stroke his shoulders, relax them, tense them to the point of fucking stiffness, but he can’t tell you that, he’s got one chance, he’s fucking taking it, he won’t miss, he won’t back down.

When he goes in to kiss you again, you press your naked chest over his thin tank top, and even then, he feels it—your pointing nipples, how hard they are, asking for attention. His hand comes out to reach for your neck, creating space by pushing you back, his tongue quickly wrapping around one bud, nibbling, sucking, teasing. You shudder, and his dick twitches. Holding you like this, applying just enough pressure to induce pain but making it manageable, he learned it for other purposes, it was never supposed to be for this, never for this—

He thinks he can begin using it for pleasure now. For something softer, more innocent. For you. On you.

You slip his thumb past your lips, licking over it, and he looks up through dark eyelashes, watches you do it, fantasizes about that mouth and how it would feel in other places, but he doesn’t want that from you now. He’d rather bury himself between your legs. He’d like to think you’ll have more time for everything else, more miracle chances.

Chris can smell your arousement. You’re practically soaking his pants with how you’re dry humping his thigh. He loves watching you losing yourself, he’d just love it even more if you were doing it with his cock inside you. His nails dig into your waist, his wanting unbearable, uncontrollable.

He’s shaking with the sheer force of it, though he would never truly admit it to himself.

You release his finger, and he brings you back, hand getting lost at your nape, holding you there, boring his eyes into yours, searching, asking, verifying. You’re so warm, his girl. The girl he’s wanted for so long, he’s dreamed of, has fought for in a silent war—before he even knows what he’s doing, he pulls you in for a hug, forgetting his own flesh, his desire.

You’re warm. Are you always this warm? Will you let me have this? I’ve been cold for so long, so fucking long…

“We’ve waited too long, don’t you think?” You mumble in his ear. You fall into him, relax your weight. Crush me. Let me feel you. “Do it, Chris. Please.”

Yes. Yes, you’re right. “I want you to know,” he starts, voice cracking, full of emotion. “I’ve lived through Hell wasting all that time. I’ve thought about death and addiction, and about how none of that could ever fucking compare to having you, like this, one day. You’ve kept me straight, sweetheart. Sane.”

It takes only a second for the words to register, before you’re unbuckling his belt, unzipping, hand getting lost, and he holds his breath through all of it, holds you even tighter, and when you finally, finally, have him in your hand, he pulls your panties to the side and guides you over, slams you down, on him. You bite his lip to keep from screaming out and he only digs deeper in your cunt.

“Take them off,” you cry out, trying to move by your own volition. He won’t let you. “Take them off now.”

He reaches behind your back and rips the thin fabric off you, throwing it on the driver's seat. Then he’s fucking into you full force, pistoling his hips up into your warmth, feeling you squeeze around him, your mouth sucking on his neck, the car heavy with your breathing, windows smudged. When he’s not guiding your hips, he’s gripping your ass, he’s abusing your waist by smacking you down on his length, hard, forcefully, painfully by the scrunch of your brows, but the way you take it all—the way you’re blossoming over him, hungrier than he is, a slut dripping for him, for his cock, for the way it fills you up, the way he fills you up—

Chris is convinced your pussy was made for him, he fits so perfectly inside it. Your rhythm is manic, chasing, brutal, but you’re so wet, so fucking wet, it feels so good, he needs you to know, he needs you to hear it, something else other than his cock burying, fuck, fuck, baby girl, your cunt, your sweet fucking cunt, I wanna be inside it forever, I’m gonna fill you up so good, look at you, look how you’re moving on me, let me see you, sweetheart, let me taste it, I bet you taste incredible; God I could fuck you all night, I could ruin you, I want to, you’re gonna fucking kill me.

“I’m going to cum,” you rasp, breathless, turned on beyond belief. “Chris, I’m going to fucking cum, fuck, just like that, please, don’t stop, faster, please, please…”

He drills into you one last time, two, three, before his arms fully wrap around you and envelop you, bodies shaking, releasing. There’s sweat dripping down his forehead, and you’ve made a mess of his car seat. He could give less of a fuck about the stain, it’s the smell that’s driving him crazy, his musk mixed with yours, the desire stirring in the pit of his stomach, the way he wants to throw you in the backseat and to take you from behind as well.

His cock empties itself inside you in aftershocks, and your rocking hips against him are not helping. He wants to pin you down but can’t bring himself to do it. It feels overwhelming, good as fuck, to know you want him this much, even if just like this, it’s a start, it’s something he can work with.

“Never fucked in a car before,” you admit, dazed, giggling.

The sound tickles him.

“Took your first time, then, didn’t I?” He retorts, aware of how ridiculous it sounds.

But then you lean back, your gaze grows serious, you stop squirming. He listens, he tunes in.

“Wish you had,” you say. “My first time was in a back alley of a club. I was drunk and left to find my own way back afterwards… Not quite a decision I’m proud of.”

Chris’ heart dropped. “Consensual?”

You nodded. “Not to worry.” But the smile you threw at him didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I wonder how it would’ve been, though, if it was you from the start. You joined the army so quickly, I wasn’t sure what to do.”

His worst mistake. Something he’ll regret for the rest of his life. Chris gently lifts you from his lap and lays your upper half body on the seat next to him, quickly propping one knee where he was sitting, grabbing your hips and passing your legs over his shoulders. You squeal, hands clutching at your chest, as you watch him.

He boyishly grins your way before digging in your pussy, slurping away, cleaning you dry. The sound that came out of your mouth upon contact, fucking hell, he’ll never forget it. His cock rose in full attention again, his heart melted right off his goddamn chest. And you kept making it, kept giving it to him, sending him straight to his grave, moaning his name like that, his full name, as his tongue lapped, his nose nudging your clit.

Fuck no, you weren’t cumming. He wouldn’t let you. Not yet.

He withdrew his mouth, lowering you gently but still having a forearm under and across your waist. You kept your eyes closed, your chest rising and falling in quick motions.

“Now I can take you home.”

Your hand in his, he brought you back to his lap, held you until you calmed down. He kissed your lips and let you taste yourself. He looked at you and looked at you and looked at you.

You weren’t going anywhere.

“This could be something,” you muse quietly, face nuzzled in the crook of his neck.

Chris bit down a chuckle, nodded softly in agreement.

“Let it,” he responded. “Let it be.”

You didn’t move an inch. A minute or a year passed, it was hard to tell. Then, ever so agonizingly slow, you tilted your head.

You smiled.

Fuck me.

tags. @ughbehavior, @cb97percent, @j-0ne25, @danyxthirstae01, @streetlight-s, @amnmich, @imtoooyoungforthisshit.

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inkabelledesigns · 6 months

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Belladonna Nightshade - Halloween Dark Fairy

Base Doll: G3 Twyla from Monster High Clothing Pattern: Dollightful's Asymmetrical Dress (read to the end, I have notes about this)

Happy Halloween everyone! Since becoming a doll customizer, my Halloween dolls are usually related to my favorite indie horror game, Bendy and the Ink Machine. However, seeing as I've completed two Bendy dolls already this year, I felt it was time to give myself a break and try something a bit different. My friends over in DollyAnna's Discord server wanted to do a collaboration, so we decided to all make some Dark Fairies for Halloween!

Belladonna Nightshade is a mischievous fae that loves to play tricks and tempt mortals. That said, she's easily bribed with a sweet treat or two, and will usually let you be if you have a little candy or pastry to give her. I haven't decided what I want to do with her yet in terms of a story, but there is a part of me that would love to have her in my Equinox story.

When you consider the fact that most of my other Halloween dolls are black and yellow, it's no surprise she ended up super colorful. XD Would you believe this is my first doll with rainbow hair? Yeah neither did I, but she is! Part of my style is having really colorful and vibrant dolls, it surprises a lot of people that I've never done a rainbow before, but honestly? I'm glad to have finally tackled one! I'm also glad to have worked with another G3. Twyla is very near and dear to my heart, and I was so psyched to work with her mold! You can't see it in any of these photos, but I used glow in the dark varnish on her eyes and neon markings, so that her eyes still glow like the original. I will say, this doll has a lot more acrylic paint than my others, just by the nature of I don't have any pencils in neon colors. It was nice to get the practice in, I feel more confident than I did before in my brush skills. It was also nice to have a doll with dark scleras for a change! I haven't done that since I made Dreamer, it's surprisingly fun to draw on!

I was inspired by a LOT of different things with this one, and I went back and forth on my concepts a lot. Black light skeleton make-up, butterflies, fairies with non-traditional wings, candy, jesters, these were all sources of inspiration, and I think most obviously of all, Dollightful herself. This wasn't intentional, but I ended up using a doll of one of her favorite characters, with a lot of saturated colors which we know she loves, and even her dress pattern! I've been wanting to make this garment for ages, and finally I had a reason to try it!

So those of you who know how this pattern works are probably asking "Kat, how did you make this fit a G3? This dress is supposed to fit a G1 Monster High doll!" Believe it or not, Requiem Arts has a method for easily adjusting G1 patterns to fit G3 bodies. It's as simple as scaling a pattern up to 104% and printing it that way. It's meant for her garments, but I don't see any reason why it wouldn't work for other doll patterns. So I tried it with Katherine's dress, and I'm happy to say it worked out just fine! I think I probably should have adjusted a bit more on the skirt though. This outfit is essentially two pieces, and the skirt with all the ruffles is a little tight around the booty, it could have used a little more sizing up. So if you own this pattern and want to try this yourself, do keep that in mind!

Do let me know what you think! I had so much fun working on Belladonna, she's so vibrant and fun, I wanna try more fairies like her someday. I also need to try using props more. I got these pumpkins and hay bales on sale, and it was fun using them to craft a little temporary set for photos.

#dollblr #doll customization #doll repaint #ooak doll #halloween doll #doll custom #custom doll #monster high g3 #monster high g3 twyla #monster high custom #monster high g3 custom #monster high repaint #doll photos #doll photoshoot #doll photography #ooak #monster high ooak #longpost

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ravenalla · 10 months

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“The hellhounds originated from Gluttony and Beelzebub created them that’s why she looks like that. She’s suppose to be like the animal tamer of Lucifer’s circus.”

Okay but like Viv, none of that is made clear in your actual show. People had to actively ask if she was suppose to be the one and only Beelzebub and now your relying on Twitter fans to make theories on why your characters look certain ways or are allowed to do certain things, people who don’t follow you on social media aren’t gonna know shit about how this world works. I like subtle world building and hints, and I think the ideas of Beelzebub representing an animal tamer is fun (even if wrath makes more sense to me), but when the rules of how the hierarchy system and rings work is already so confusing and relies entirely on you looking it up online it just looks like you wanted to make another random furry design. Why are hellhounds represented by gluttony? We were never shown an instance of this before and the episode doesn’t even say that they’re in the gluttony ring at the start (which is just another Earth with a yellow sky this time how creative).

I’m not saying I want the show to spoon feed us everything, but just a little context and set up in the actual show instead of random things just happening all the time with no explanation would be nice? Like yeah it might get explained more later on in Hazbin, but why then did you make this entire spin-off show come out first taking place in these other locations and with these demon lords if you weren’t gonna set the ground rules of your universe for the audience? That’s exactly what’s causing people online to scramble to come up with explanations for you about why you have discrepancies like Tex and Beelzebub not being a big deal but Stolas and Blitz are, your relying entirely on diehard fans to wave away your shitty writing and world-building cause you never take even a single moment in your show to have a character say anything that would clew us in on how it all works. There’s too much exposition in writing, and then there’s never giving any so you just have to make guesses or listen in on streams to figure out what society your characters are even suppose to be navigating.

Also for the “A bee/fly would have been unoriginal and ugly, she doesn’t have to follow the Bible lore” people, have you considered the fact it’s just a messy design? Like I don’t even hate it on it’s own, she looks really pretty in the fanart I’ve been seeing. But putting aside the fact she’s just a wolf/fox girl, she has so many unnecessary markings, her actual hair combined with the honey hair looks so unnatural and awkward, the bug traits don’t stand out, her outfit is basically only a slight redesign of Loona’s and as people have pointed out makes no sense on her chest with the supposed undershirt. You just can’t tell what your suppose to be looking at when you first see her, it’s just noise, which is fine for an oc, but this is an actual animated show where your suppose to be communicating something. The problem isn’t she’s not fat, I’m glad they didn’t do that for her in a show with everyone else skinny it would’ve read bad, it’s that she only stands out because they slapped bright colors neon colors onto her, nothing about this design is clever. It’s just pretty aesthetics, no substance.

Also I’m sorry, they could’ve made her entirely a bug and still have been hot, why are people assuming we are saying she should’ve been ugly when we say we wanted a more insect-like design? I’ve seen loads of gorgeous bug designs for Beelzebub, people aren’t disappointed cause she’s hot they’re disappointed cause it makes no sense.

#helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critique #long rant

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merakiui · 1 year

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YOUR IDIA THOUGHTS HERE ARE IMMACULATE OMG I AM CONSIDERING SO HARD 😭💗

Aaaa I'm so glad you like it!! Allow me to expand on it a little more.

(cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, kidnapping/captivity, obsession, medical operation, drugging/aphrodisiac use, dub-con/non-con, omegaverse/abo, conditioning, forced stockholm syndrome, reader is an alpha & no pronouns are written, mention of breeding, implied pregnancy)

The steady beep-beeping of a heart monitor rouses you from what feels like an endless slumber. Crusted eyelids peel open to view the many machines that tower over you, all whirring wires and shifting screens. You watch your heart rate spike and drop in even succession, a neon green line rising and falling to mimic the way your chest heaves when you attempt to sit up and realize, with a terrible, icy dread, that you've been strapped to an examination table. Your arms are bound at your sides, cuffed like a prisoner in a hospital room, and your legs are held apart by a metal spreader bar, the cuffs nearly chewing through your skin with how tightly they're fastened around your ankles. You can hardly move your head, so your eyes flick about like frantic fruit flies, landing on the IV pole at your left, a colorless liquid weighing heavy in the bag, and the accompanying needle taped into your thigh.

A sudden coldness washes over you. Though you're clad in a thin hospital gown and the room you're confined in is filled with unfamiliar sights and smells, there is one thing that manages to soothe the alarms in your brain, if only for a moment.

Idia appears above you, his yellow eyes flashing under the intensity of the lights, and you're beyond relieved to see him. With unfocused eyes and a still-numb tongue, you swallow a mouthful of saliva and force his name out from your tightened throat. It comes out pitiful, a low groan rather than a coherent name, but it pleases him all the same. He smiles down at you, his pearly whites looking a little too sharp for your liking, and his gaze crawls down the length of your shivering body.

There's something off in the way he's dressed, the way he stands primly like the Grim Reaper overlooking death as it’s administered, and the warning signals flash again, brighter than ever. You try to jerk away from him when he reaches out to run his hand over your head, like an owner petting a cat, and he exhales softly.

“You're okay.” It's mumbled, but with your heightened senses, each one sparking to life in a panic, you can hear it perfectly. “The first step is never the easiest.”

The first step? The first step of what?

You must be looking at him with pleading eyes, for he smiles again and a finger trails along your cheek, frigidly skeletal, and you bite back a terrified whimper.

“I'll be honest, (Name). I really don't like hurting you... Even seeing you in this state is...weird. I guess it's because fear doesn't look right on alphas.”

There's that creepy, toothy grin again, stretching ominously across his face, and you can't contain the disgust that darkens your gaze. This isn't Idia. The Idia you know is endearingly awkward, too shy to harm a soul, and a fanatic of the pixelated worlds in video games and manga. The Idia who looms over you now, who is strangely restless with poorly concealed excitement, is not the sweet, soft-spoken boy you befriended all that time ago. In his well-tailored uniform, he looks every bit the detached scientist of anyone's worst nightmares. You think this is the most put-together he’s ever appeared.

A million questions fester in your brain. What's going on? Why are you here? What's he going to do? How did you end up in this situation? He took you, didn't he? You were dragged out of the comfort of your room by STYX robots and something had been injected to still your thrashing body, and then all was gloomy and silent.

“But you won't have to be scared for much longer. I'm going to fix everything.”

Fix everything? A bewildered whine slips out instead of the query.

“I have a responsibility to uphold to my family, you see. They're expecting me to give them an heir in the future, but in order to do that I'll need an omega.”

Then find an omega! you try to say, but the words just won't come. I'm an alpha! You know this!

“There's just one problem.” His fingers drum along your neck, right at the junction between neck and shoulder, where your scent glands are, and his eyes narrow in scrutiny. And then that cold, bloodless hand is traveling down your stomach, inching closer to your most private area, and you flinch in an effort to get away, but the straps hold you down, hardly allowing you to rise a centimeter from the table. A hysterical cry forces its way through trembling lips. “You're not built like an omega.”

Built. Built. As if you're one of his robots. You glare at him, baring your teeth like a cornered animal, and he sighs.

“I've looked at it from all angles, (Name). Really, I have! This was my last resort.” His hand returns to its rightful place at his side and he straightens, his head no longer angled to peer at you. Instead he glances at something else in the room. You try to locate it, but it's out of your range. “It would only hurt you more if I forced you to pretend, which is why I'm going to make everything right.”

Something's passed into his hand and you catch sight of a stone-faced nurse. You beg with teary eyes, but the helpless countenance doesn't sway her or Idia. The oxygen mask is fitted over your face and you thrash under the straps, crying out garbled strings of words and sounds. Idia tells the nurse to sedate you.

“This'll be over before you know it. You won’t feel a thing,” he's saying, twisting a valve so that something's forced into your flaring nostrils. Not crisp oxygen, you realize, but alpha pheromones. It doesn't affect you like it would an omega, but it does provide an intense level of discomfort. A needle pricks your skin, but you don’t register it as you focus on Idia. He brushes his fingers over your forehead, a fleeting gesture, and adds, “Just relax. That's better, isn't it? You'll be okay.”

And you know you'll be safe in your dreams, for that's the only place you can withdraw into to escape this dismal operating room.

- - -

There’s a pressure deep in your stomach when you wake next, hours later perhaps, and the machines around you continue to thrum, alive with energy. You swallow thickly and force your eyes open, groggy with exhaustion and still slow from the sedatives. The oxygen mask continues to funnel pheromones into your nose and your face scrunches. Not in displeasure, for it isn’t a horrible scent. It’s comfortingly robust and it keeps your heart rate level. A layer of perspiration encases you. You can feel the way it slips down your back, between your shoulder blades, and a shudder racks through you. You’re certain it’s the excessive pheromones contributing to your daze, but those thoughts slip away into oblivion when you lift your head from the table to determine what’s been digging its way through your insides.

No, not quite digging. Penetrating. With wide, horrified eyes, you spy the silicone dildo pumping into you in a quick rhythm, the piston never faltering or slowing, and when you notice the artificial knot that just can’t quite make its way into your tight hole you scream a shrill, ear-splitting scream that rattles your very bones. Idia’s at your side almost immediately, soothing you with shushes and whispers. You struggle in vain, sobbing and shrieking, and he frowns down at you. The nurse administers another sedative and, from what you’ve just heard, an aphrodisiac. Your breath comes in panicked huffs, fogging the oxygen mask and taking in great gulps of unwanted pheromones.

“You’re doing well,” he praises, and your stomach twists in terror. “You’re tighter than I thought you’d be, but I guess that’s because you’re not accustomed to this. I even picked one that’s smaller than average.” He nods towards the faux cock and you swallow another rising sob. Your gaze is torn from the explicit display to the bottle he holds up for your viewing pleasure. Lube, you realize. “We’ll increase the size once you start producing your own lubricant. For now, just relax.”

He rubs soothing circles into your thigh and a new wave of heat washes over you. The aphrodisiac’s begun to muddle your brain, turning your senses and making the alpha pheromones smell far more delightful than they actually are. Even Idia’s touch, as unnerving as it is, has you arching your back.

“Good. Very good. This is for your sake, (Name). I don’t want you to be in pain when we...” He smiles shyly and for a split second he looks normal. Though what normal truly is anymore is beyond you. “Well, that’s an ending we haven’t unlocked just yet.”

This continues for a while. You’re kept under the soothing thumb of a cocktail of medicines, and when one wears off another is distributed. Idia’s been watching you all this time, controlling the speed at which the cock pistons into you, and just when you feel the coils within yourself unraveling the machine stops abruptly and you’re left to wallow in displeasure. This torturous edging repeats for a few more rotations.

Eventually you’re pulled back under into unconsciousness, and the next time you wake your thighs are slick and there’s liquid pooling on the table under your rear. You blink through sleep, drunkenly glancing about. Your situation hasn’t changed, but you have. You’re hotter than usual, skin warming with each passing second, and you’re certain your pupils are blown wide with desire. When you inhale a shuddering breath of pheromones, your body trembles, hungering for more than just the smell of an alpha.

Your eyes rove your surroundings, desperately searching for one. You’re gasping tiny, breathless whimpers when you turn up empty and for a moment you assume you’re alone, doomed to be fucked by a thick, rubber cock while pheromones continue to feed into every omega instinct—instincts that come as naturally as the slick that spills from your hole and coats the dildo in a translucent sheen—for the rest of your days. And just before you can lose yourself in a panicked, downward spiral, a familiar face appears above you. His hand casts a large shadow over you, and you don’t flinch away when he pulls the mask off of you. You’re about to protest, but then a new scent hits you head-on and you squirm on the table.

“I’m here.” His fingers curl around yours and you realize one of your wrists has been freed from its cuff. You squeeze his hand tightly, tugging him closer to you. A wide smile splits his cheeks. “I’m not going anywhere, lovebug.”

Lovebug! Oh, that’s a name you’ve never been called before. It brands itself into your skin, warm and sweet, and you choke on a delighted wail when the thick knot at the base of the dildo finally, finally, slips inside what was once tight, gummy walls. Tears gather in your eyes, running in endless streams as you finally, finally, climax. And Idia holds your hand through the entirety of it all, his thumb tracing patterns into your knuckles. His scent surrounds you, clinging to you like a second skin, and you wrap yourself in the comforts of it.

“We’re almost done,” he mumbles, pulling away from you, and your hand pursues him.

You whine at his departure and then whine again when the machine halts and the knot deflates enough to allow the length of the cock to ease out from your drenched hole. It feels so empty and cold without anything to fill the space, and you think you’re mumbling to him. It’s hard to tell with your mind so fixated on Idia’s deliciously tempting pheromones, the urge to be filled to the brim and properly bred a matter more pressing than breathing.

“I’m still here.” His voice sounds so faraway. You reach for it with your free arm, but it falls limp when the nurse from before injects yet another needle into you. You follow her arm with sluggish movements. “That part’s out of the way. Now I just need you to get used to what’s next.”

You fall into a dark abyss with no clue of the meaning in his words. If it weren’t for the sedative, you’d surely be unable to sleep. The heat that currently seizes you is so strong it grips your very soul, pinning you to the table in an ocean of sweat and slick, where every inhalation brings you closer to Idia and has the omega in you yearning for an alpha.

- - -

You’re not sure how much time has passed—whether it’s been hours or days—and if you’ve even been alive for most of it, but you wake on a plush, king-sized bed, wrapped up in the duvet and in someone’s lanky arms. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, right where your scent glands are, and according to him your scent is the prettiest, most enticing thing he’s ever smelled. Of course he’d know. He chose that scent himself and now it’s yours. Your new scent alongside new and improved glands. You’re not sure how such alterations were possible; perhaps it’s magic or science or something far darker. In the time you spent strapped to an operating table, enduring various-sized dildos and knots, electric shocks from a collar that would tighten when you moved incorrectly or failed to clench and cum at the right moment, and an overwhelming amount of pheromones—enough to reduce you to a needy mess with a never-ending heat—you finally come out of the haze with a clear, content head and heart.

You’re an omega now. Although with how readily you respond to your alpha’s touch and scent, growing impatiently wet, perhaps you’ve always been an omega. Perhaps it’s something that’s laid dormant within you and Idia’s only just awakened it.

Your first heat was long and messy; it overtook you with its sheer ferocity, leaving you unable to be truly pleased by the fake cocks stuffing your hole or the fingers that curled experimentally inside to gauge just how much slick you could produce. It feels like a distant memory or a particularly bad fever dream, and now your heats are far more enjoyable because they’re spent with your alpha.

You wake Idia with smothering kisses, all peppered along his cheek and eyelids, until his mouth twitches and he opens two brilliant eyes to meet your desperate stare. It’s not uncommon for you to wake in this state. He’s trained you well, so much so that you’ll throw yourself into pseudo-heats just to fill a void that can only be filled by him. Perhaps it’s an addiction or a clinical error—though that second one seems improbable; Idia’s meticulous when it comes to pet projects.

His morning voice is always the best lullaby. You tug him against you, nails tracing along his back as if you intend to till it into bloody ribbons. There’s no need for foreplay; you’ve been trained to accept him without any preparations, but those are still nice on occasion. Not right now, though. Not when your every instinct craves him, his dick, his cum. His everything. And, without fail, he gives it to you.

Idia always slips in so easily, and each time you always throw your head back and cry out so sweetly for him. He’s trained your body and your vocabulary, for when he speaks to you you know what you’re meant to say. And you know exactly when to tighten around him, when to cum, when to cry. You are his ideal omega, sculpted by his own hands.

“I love you,” you chant it like a prayer while he mutters sin. “Alpha.”

And your full belly is a testament to that sugared confession.

#meraki thirsts #yandere twst #yandere idia shroud #n/sfw #tw: abo #tw: omegaverse #tw: dubcon #tw: noncon #tw: drugging #tw: aphrodisiac #tw: implied pregnancy #tw: breeding #h2o2-and-baking-soda #it's the styx uniform... it really flips a switch in me

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mangekyuou · 2 years

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✸ headcanons % when you paint their nails.

✸ characters! . . . jinbei, crocodile, mihawk, shanks, roger, rayleigh, oden & kaido.

✸ cw(s)! . . . n/a. no pronouns used. not proofread.

✸ notes! . . . i usually never THIS many characters for headcanons. but i needed my ESDs, emotional support dilfs. they’ve been on my mind.

you originally asked to paint his nails because you wanted to see what a particular color looked like. but then it actually looked really cute on him, so you kept going

your loveable cuddle teddy bear doesn’t mind at all. definitely tries his best to model it for you

is the best model. he’s so precious :((

is very proud of your work and shows them off any time anyone asks

adores when you paint his nails to match his kimonos, especially when you add little designs that match the accents/patterns. he could just smother you in kisses

he loves when you give him sea themed nails. he adores that you want to remind him of his home. no one has done anything like that for him before

you don’t know how much it really means to him

tells you no but lets you do it anyway, only one nail tho he says…until he realizes it looks kinda weird, so he lets you do the whole hand

pretends he’s not interested in the slightest and has better things to do

but in reality he’s watching you the whole time, thinking how cute you are when you’re focused

he only wants black but has broadened his horizon to red. but any other color outside of those two is “not his type”

throughout his day when he’s not with you, he’ll look at his nails and be reminded of you

the type to take offense on your behalf if someone says something about his nails and will definitely over-exaggerate the situation to the extreme for the sake of making a point so that no one ever disrespects you again

you two give each other manicures

he’s probably better than you at it. his nail art is always so precise. he should run a side business if he ever gets tired of the pirate gig

mihawk himself prefers fall colors, your reds, oranges, deep purples, and golds. you know something that looks quite nice holding a wine glass

he doesn’t mind the occasional white though. but he doesn’t think green looks good on him

mihawk takes perfect care of his nails. he is going to make your work last !!

they always look so pretty when he’s holding his sword

mihawk loves matching nails with you. even if it’s a color he doesn’t particularly think suits him well

he asks you to paint his nails. don’t ask him why, because he doesn’t know, he just wants his nails painted

is terrible at staying still, he moves every five seconds, making you mess up. takes you longer to do his one hand than both of yours😭😭

shanks loves colors that pop out, especially ones that do not match his fit at all

he wants hot pink, the brightest shade of yellow around, even neon green

he wants acrylics so bad. he just loves the sound of nail tapping. but knows they’re going to hinder him further because he doesn’t know how to open things with them and will not take the time to learn

he’s too stubborn to. he’ll chip a nail or two for a bottle of beer without regrets

roger only becomes interested when he sees you painting your nails on the deck of the oro jackson

he practically flops in front of you with one of his hands already out. roger has his feet up in the air, kicking back and forth as you paint his nails

he likes all colors. and he doesn’t particularly want his nails to be all one color. plus he likes glitter

just go ahead and give him glitter rainbow nails

roger would like to try acrylics, only because you have had them before and he liked your set. he wants the exact same set you had

of course they don’t last long because he isn’t a fan of how they feel. they are quite pretty, but not for him.

was glad he tried them out though

has had his nails painted many times before, and a few of those times he did it himself

but when you do it, it’s special. and he definitely makes the actual process difficult with his constant flirting

and the way he’s looking at you ?? he’s doing it on purpose

loves wearing your favorite color(s). loves it, even more, when his nails match your outfit

he is another supporter of matching couple nails. he’s the one who suggests it. he paints your nails, you paint his over drinks

or sometimes he’ll just paint yours and massages your hands ( among other things of course ) and let you vent about your day

has had his nails painted before back in wano. izou and kiku did it. back then he definitely hated it. with you ?? oh he loves every second of it.

his eyes light up like christmas trees. you can without a doubt feel the love and admiration radiating off of him

he usually wants red to match his eyeliner or purple to match his nio-dasuki

after you finish his nails he likes to hold your face in his hands. it’s become a habit of his

is also not good at keeping his nails looking good. when they dry, he purposely peels off paint just so you can do it again just for an excuse for you to paint his nails again

he likes how gentle you are with him <3

he loves it :(((

it’s one of the few moments you get to see him

he loves when you paint his nails. he is as still as a rock when you’re doing your craft because he doesn’t want to mess you up

he enjoys darker colors like black, dark red, and dark purple

but he won’t pass up a cute lighter blue, only because you said it matched his dragon form scales

he’ll do any color you put on him really. who’s gonna make fun of kaido for wearing hot pink nail polish and live to see another day ??

makes little requests for designs he thinks would look nice on him. he wants gems babe. the shinier the better, he wants his nails to be seen

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iffeelscouldkill · 8 months

Text

Spray-Painted Spiders (A PunkFlower ficlet)

A/N: In my day job, I work not far from the Leake Street tunnel, a tunnel in London's Southbank totally covered in amazing graffiti. One day, I was walking through and couldn't help but imagine how Miles might react to the place, and this little fic started to write itself in my head...

Originally I was going to have Gwen and Pav join them, but I decided to keep it simple, just Miles and Hobie, and then it turned PunkFlower-ish ;) How to impress your artistic, graffiti-loving crush, by Hobie Brown: bring him to the Leake Street tunnel :D

Pics of the real tunnel after the fic!

---

Miles' whistle echoed around the walls of the tunnel, every inch of them covered in colourfully-painted portraits and landscapes and swirling abstract patterns.

"So people paint... this whole tunnel?" he asked, gaping at their surroundings. "Don't the cops stop them?"

Hobie shrugged fluidly. The two of them were in casual clothing, spider suits tucked away underneath, and the dim light illuminated the smirk on Hobie's face. "They try," he said. "But we're persistent. Besides, they don't like to come down here too much. It's considered an "unsavoury" area."

Miles was busy leaning back to marvel at the ceiling, which was covered in an intricate black and white design. "Woah, how did they get up there?"

The longer his eyes travelled over it, the more the geometric design started to resemble something... familiar. Something like a series of spiralling, interlocking spider webs. "Did you...?"

Hobie's smirk was decidedly wolfish now. Miles was glad that the dark concealed his pink cheeks. "It could use some flair, I think," he said. He unslung the backpack on his shoulder and took out a can of red spray paint, which he presented to Miles with a flourish. "You up for it?"

Miles reached out to accept the spray can, and their fingers brushed. He answered Hobie's grin with his own. "Yeah, man."

Under cover of darkness, masks pulled down to cover their faces, the two Spiders leapt lightly up the walls and clung to the ceiling. Miles stared at the black and white canvas that stretched out below him. It wasn't often that he built on someone else's work, but this design... Colour leapt into his mind's eye, weaving in and out of the spaces between the webs. He could see it so easily. Mesmerised, and not even aware of Hobie watching him, Miles shook the paint can and got to work.

Hours later, the faint glow of sunrise was creeping into the mouth of the tunnel as Miles and Hobie beheld their completed masterpiece. The webs seemed to glow, highlighted with bright shades of neon green and yellow, while in and around the strands crawled spiders in vivid blue and red. Down the walls, spiders crawled and hid in the crevices of the other artists' work, even scuttling across the floor.

Miles eyed his last strokes critically, adding some pale blue highlights to a hanging spider. It was Hobie's turn to give a low whistle, and Miles looked over to see him nodding slowly in approval.

"It looks good. It looks really good."

Miles thrilled inside, even as he tried his best to play it cool. "Not bad, right?"

He could no longer see Hobie's face beneath the mask, but there was a smile in the older Spider's voice as he answered, "Not bad at all."

Miles took a breath to say something more - and then a shout cut through the air.

"HEY!"

The two half-turned, muscles coiled to spring at the first sign of danger. A police officer stood at the entrance to the tunnel, mouth hanging open. "What the hell..."

Hobie reached out a hand, and Miles took it without a second thought. "Let's Scapa Flow," he said in an undertone, and though Miles had no idea what that meant, he got the message. He squeezed back, and Hobie pulled him along as they sprinted into the dark of the tunnel.

Footsteps sounded and a whistle blew, but the officer was no match for the two Spiders. As soon as they got far enough into the tunnel that they'd be hidden from view, Hobie fired a web and leapt into the air, and Miles followed him. Soon, they were out and swinging through the silvery grey London dawn.

There was no-one around to notice the two figures that alighted on top of the stationary Ferris wheel overlooking the river. Miles was panting a tiny bit from the sudden chase, and with a glance at Hobie, he raised his mask. Hobie followed suit a second later.

"So, d'you like it, then?" Hobie asked.

"Like it? It's amazing. Your world is amazing," Miles couldn't help but enthuse. Playing it cool had kind of gone out the window, but he was too suffused with adrenaline and the thrill of the moment to care. He saw Hobie smile, genuinely pleased.

"You know you can come here any time," Hobie said.

"You mean... like Gwen comes here any time?" Miles couldn't help cautiously checking. Hobie glanced over and raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe a bit different to that," he said. Miles looked at Hobie's profile, wondering if it was the pink glow of sunrise touching his face or something else. He thought he knew what Hobie meant, but he wasn't sure how to be sure. Looking back across the water, Miles was searching for the right words when he felt soft lips press against his cheek.

He turned, surprised, and Hobie drew back a tiny bit, but still so close, his dark eyes searching Miles' features. "Too much?" he checked.

Miles smiled, knowing that he didn't need to find the right words after all. "Just right," he said, and leaned in to kiss Hobie on the mouth.

---

A/N: Scapa Flow = go (Cockney Rhyming slang)

In the real Leake Street tunnel, graffiti is actually legal, and it's quite a tourist hotspot, but since this is Hobie's world I decided to make it a more underground, subversive spot. But I kept the London Eye so that they could have a romantic moment afterwards on top of the Ferris wheel ;)

The tunnel really does have artwork on the ceiling - probably not painted by Spider-people, but who knows :D Here are some photos from my recent visit (the artwork changes every time):

#ficlet #fic #Across the Spiderverse #Spiderman atsv #atsv fic #Across the Spiderverse fic #PunkFlower #FlowerPunk #Hobie x Miles #Miles x Hobie #Hobie Brown #Miles Morales #Spider Punk #graffiti #street art #Leake Street #Leake Street tunnel #does this count as bring your fandom to work

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marblegroves · 7 months

Note

Just saw your sketchbook post and I am amazed at how clean it all looks O_O /pos

So I was wondering, what materials do you use for your traditional drawings (all the stuff from sketch to final piece)?

BOY AM I GLAD YOU ASKED THIS *ahem*

Behold 😌

For the sketchbook pages, I mainly stuck to these materials though ^^ these guys are my…

PRIMARY MATERIALS

The green mechanical pencil on the picture on the left has 0.7mm colored lead in it! I alternate between blue and pink colored leads depending on what fits the overall color of the piece better.

Once I finish up the sketch, I line it with the black pilot ballpoint pen! I really like the control and feel of ballpoint pens for traditional lineart, because it gives a sort of variety in pressure I can’t seem to achieve with normal fineliners. I like to switch up the colors of the lineart too sometimes, hence the pink and red ballpens.

Then once the linearts done, I color them in with the stabilo highlighters, as pictured on the right! These guys are my FAVORITES. Sometimes when I’m just freely sketching I use the grey or peach mini stabilos. Although, they do tend to be a bit runny, ‘cause they’re meant for quick highlights and not multiple strokes over an area ^^; so you do have to be careful and quick when coloring with them to get an even coat of color!

Sometimes, though, when there are other colors or textures I want in a drawing, I use my…

SECONDARY MATERIALS

Pictured above are all my alcohol based markers! The four on the left are neon sharpies for when I need that extra eyestrainy kick. The three promarkers with the pointy cap were from when I was a freshman in uni and wanted to collect a full set of alcohol markers, but these were the only colors they had in stock and the college supply store ✌️ I’ve since given up on that dream because they were really expensive ;; they’re really good for sunny grassy scenes though! The last dark blue marker was from a set of other blue markers, but the others have since dried out… I use it when I really wanna darken up a page, like for night scenes!

This is my prismacolor set! I like to pair these with the markers, going in after the initial layer of color to give a bit of variety or shine. Some examples of when I use them would be for adding blush or giving hair a glossy sheen 👍

These ones are my “fuck it” materials lmao

I use these when I really just wanna scribble something down wildly. I had these since I was in gradeschool and its quite frankly a miracle they still work? Oh, and the red and yellow twistable crayolas are missing because I vaguely remember giving them to some childhood friends for some reason 🤔

My fineliners and gellyrolls! Haven’t used these much recently tbh. I’d used them for class before, but I never really likes how flat the thickness tends to be :/ the brush tips and chisel tips are cool though. I used them for that one yellow bdubs doodle to try and see if my opinion of them has changed ^^ it hasn’t. Moving on…

Lastly, we have the special materials! The ones that don’t really go into any sets, or have nice applications. In order from left to right:

Wink of Stella - A brush pen that applies glitter through some sort of black magic. No idea how she works but I love her

Red Marvy Art Director 1400 - A red fine tip marker. Can’t go wrong with a bright red marker 👍

Golden Posca - My only posca marker. Figured if I should get one it might as well be something special.

Faber Castell Blue Highlighter - I use this alongside the stabilos. It has a really nice deep blue color ^^

And well! That should be everything! ^^ Thanks for giving me an avenue to gush about my materials lmao 🥰

#well that was cathartic #ramblegroves

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theminecraftbee · 1 year

Text

There’s a flier someone’s left on the bus. Something shaming a—company logo he doesn’t recognize, as he shoves it aside to grab the last seat in the back that usually means he and Gem don’t have to sit next to anyone else—for “desecration of the Carrows Life”. Alright; with a logo and a slogan like that, it’s either a religious nut job or one of the people real mad at the Church about the demons.

Yeah, sure. He’s exhausted. Impulse can’t really bring himself to care about neon-yellow fliers in the dead of night on the bus.

Just another hour and practically every single stop down the line, and he’ll be home. He’s glad there’s a late-night bus down here; enough people come and go from these streets at two am that they make some poor bus driver do the route.

Next to him, Gem grumbles as she removes her makeup. “Impulse, why do I keep getting the waterproof kind?”

“Hard to dance and still look good if it doesn’t stand up to sweat,” Impulse says, settling into his seat as the bus starts moving again. “Don’t see why that should make it that much harder to remove, unless you’re sweating acetone these days, but they don’t pay me to know how your makeup works.”

“No, they pay you to be your stupid big protective butt. You absolutely know how my makeup works,” Gem says.

“You could wait until we aren’t on a moving bus to take it off?” Impulse offers.

“Nah. I need something to do so I don’t fall asleep, and I’m not opening my other bag until we’re both safely at home.”

“Yeah, fair,” Impulse says, not glancing at it for too long. Gem had a good night tonight. Sometimes, he’s jealous of the nights she has; the amount people are willing to throw at her sometimes is insane. Most of the time, though, he’s just glad he’s paid a regular salary to stand in the corner and occasionally show people exactly why he’s so big if they act up.

(Someone’s got to do it.)

The doors open. The unmistakeable smell of someone on way, way too much weed wafts through the doors. Impulse sighs. There’s a reason they sit in the back.

“What are the odds we get lucky and get home early?” Gem says. “My knee hurts.”

Impulse looks at her sharply. “You didn’t say anything during the show.”

Gem laughs. “Relax, relax. Not that bad. Nothing a bit of icyhot won’t solve, or one of your little…” She wiggles her fingers.

“You need to tell me these things before you dance on them, Gem,” Impulse says. “One of these days, I won’t be able to fix it! Then what are you gonna do about your knee, huh?”

“Uhuh. And the bruise on your face…?”

“He was drunk,” Impulse says. “It’s barely a scratch. Or, uh, well, it’s a bruise, but…”

“If I were any good at healing,” Gem says.

“I’ll ice it!” Impulse says, putting his hands up. “Besides, I don’t need my face to do my job. Might make guys respect me more?”

The bus stops. A few more people get on. There’s a bit of shouting from a drunk guy, and it makes Impulse look up on instinct, both his and Gem’s awareness hovering around their bag. Gem has a nasty curse on it if anyone but her tries to grab it, but these days…

The drunkard isn’t looking their way. He settles down again. Impulse doesn’t.

“One day, one of us will get a car, and we’ll just drive,” Impulse mutters.

“And pay for parking?” Gem asks.

“Well, it’s the thought that counts,” Impulse says.

The bus stops. Impulse looks up at the sign, just to make sure they aren’t near their stop. They aren’t. He almost looks down.

There’s a feeling in his gut. He doesn’t ignore gut feelings after as long as he’s been doing what he does. He puts a hand in his jacket. He doesn’t actually carry a gun; people think he does, but he’s fairly effective at threatening without it, and if all else fails, he does have a thick vest he’d bought with his own money after the only time he’d been shot. It had taken all of his savings, but it had been worth it.

He curls his fingers instead around the lucky charm Gem had given him after they’d become roommates and tries to focus on the feeling. There's something scraping nearby. A horrible scraping, like talons against brick, or maybe more like death clawing against soil.

The bus starts moving again. The drunks stay drunk. The fellow exhausted club and bar workers stay exhausted. The guy who’s high out of his mind doesn’t even blink.

A woman who had gotten on the bus, though, approaches them. Gem stiffens. Impulse is hyper-aware of the bag full of the night’s tips that Gem has with her.

“Hello. Sorry for interrupting,” the woman says. She’s tall. She has long, light brown hair that she hasn’t tied back. She’s wearing a long overcoat. It looks second-hand, but not properly so, like it’s being worn by someone who doesn’t quite know how to fit into second-hand clothes, or perhaps doesn’t quite know how not to fit.

There's bruises on her face, too. A split lip and a black eye and a bit of blood on the collar of her shirt.

"You look lost," Impulse says without thinking. The woman blinks.

"Oh! Yes, I suppose you could say that," she says. "That's..."

Impulse slowly takes his hand out of his jacket. Her voice is even more lost, somehow. Impeccably put-together. Very hard to read. But Impulse, he has to read people for a living, and this is a woman who is lost.

"I was just here because you two look the most aware and fit on the bus," she says.

"Oh, I'm not all that fit," Gem lies to the woman's face. "I mean, just look at me! I'm delicate!"

Impulse has seen Gem's abs. She's not delicate, she just puts on a show of being—still not delicate, actually, but the kind of not-delicate men like, not the kind of not-delicate she actually is. It's a fine line.

The woman raises an eyebrow. "Okay," she says. "I'm just—there are demons. Not far. I got away from them, but they might be following you."

"They're following you?" says Gem.

"Shhh," says the woman.

"Fine," Impulse says. "They're following you. Why? And why did you get on the bus?"

The woman is silent for a moment. "I don't think they'll catch up to us," she says. "I don't—I don't have another place to go back to, right now. I'm a bit... I don't mean to put anyone in danger. You two are the most fit looking people on here, is all. If danger did happen..."

Impulse feels something in him crack. He looks at Gem. It wouldn't be the first time the two of them have helped someone down on their luck off the streets. Of course, it's not entirely out of the goodness of their hearts, all the time, but, well, Impulse is still Impulse and Gem puts up with it and this world doesn't work if people don't help each other, Impulse has always said.

Gem shrugs and nods.

"Sit down. You can get off at our stop. My name's Gem, by the way."

The woman, slowly, sits down in a seat across from them.

"Impulse," Impulse says.

The woman opens her mouth. The woman closes it. "You can call me Griba," she says, finally.

Impulse quirks an eyebrow. "I can call you?"

"Hey, that sounds like—wasn't there someone with a name like that on the news recently?" Gem says.

The woman grimaces. "You could say that," she says.

Gem and Impulse look at each other. They look back at the woman. "Fine then. Keep your secrets," Gem says imperiously, and her tone works, because it makes—Griba, Impulse supposes, until she wants to give them her real name—laugh.

"At least until we find out if the demons get me," she says agreeably.

The bus stops again. They all tense. One person gets off and no one gets on. The bus starts moving again.

"One of these days," Impulse mutters.

"You've got to finish the sentence," Gem says. "Don't leave me hanging like that!"

"Is this an ongoing thing?" Griba says, and they continue onwards together.

#a bee fic #last days talk #not tagging with the characters both to preserve the (very thin) mystery of who one of these is #and because there are some adult implications here i don't necessarily want in the main tags #anyway. for anyone wondering what i'd do with a last days sequel: something like this.#mentions of alcohol #mentions of drugs #also for the record. the way... griba... enters this story is an intentional parallel with how she does it in last days #however changed because she's changed as a character and that's a large part of what this story would be about

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wolfoftheblackflames · 22 days

Text

So I was browsing Tumblr since I like to do that sometimes, and bam! I got hit with a fic inspiration... Anyway here you go misfits! (This is set after the new hotel is built)

Girls' day feat. Angel Dust:

“Uh why the fuck is he here?”

Those words came out when the last of the invited arrived at Charlie’s little get-together. It was Angel Dust wearing a beautiful pink crop top and black shorts with sparkly neon pink heels as he grinned. “I was invited toots.”

“Ya got a problem with Angie?” Cherri growled at Vaggie, who lifted her hands in defense. “No, just thought he'd be with the guys..”

Angel Dust just laughed. “You're just jealous cause I can easily out girl ya toots.” He playfully sneered, fluffing up his sexy chest fluff.

Vaggie just growled a bit, though blinked as she heard the door only to see Charlie come back with the cutest looking outfit on, which was free flowing grey crop top with small sleeves that exposed her shoulders and a beautiful pair of casual jeans. Instantly she blushed a bit and looked away. “Ha, look at the blush on the fuckin’ munchkin!” Cherri chuckled, nudging her best friend Angel who joined in with a snicker. Even Niffty who sat on the couch couldn't help but giggle. “She looks like a lamp.”

Charlie pursed her lips clearly not liking the teasing. She flashed the others with her demonic red and white eyes to get them to stop. “Uh whoops, so uh what cha got in the box?” Angel laughed nervously.

“I'm glad you asked, since it's a girl's day I figured we could have a fun spa session!” The princess grinned, placing the box down and opening it.

Inside said box was a bunch of different skin care products, nail polish, scented body lotions, and much more. “I ain't one for just relaxin’ but Angie convinced me.” Cherri stated picking up one of the nail polish, a beautiful shimmering yellow like his eyes. Her face fell since it had only been several weeks since the battle with heaven.

“Seriously Cherri, ya needed it, besides we all miss our little snake.” Angel placed one of his arms around her. “Now let's see how this color looks on ya sugar tits.” He grinned trying to cheer up his best bud.

Vaggie smiled a bit. She knew the loss of Sir Pentious weighed on everyone. However, with the new hotel, it was a chance to move forward. She went over to the box and smirked. “He did like the smell of mint.” The angel held up some hand lotion to Cherri, who blinked.

“There wasn't a day where I didn't see that snake with either a cup of coffee or tea.” Angel mused as Cherri took the lotion with a nod. To her it felt weird, people actually being nice, to have had a man who complimented her mind instead of her hot as fuck body, and that kiss, fuck it had been kinda hot.

Cherri smirked a bit. “He was fun to pick on, the slimy shit.” She took off her gloves and casually applied the lotion. It really wasn't her style but she didn't mind it.

Charlie smiled a bit seeing how Cherri relaxed. She was hoping to recruit the bombardier but the woman had turned her down. “So Angel..” She smirked in a sing-song like tone. “I saw the eyes you were giving Husk. What's up with that?” She playfully poked the spider.

Angel blinked and cleared his throat. Even Cherri looked up at him and smirked evilly. “Don't you start too!” He groaned but blinked as Niffty giggled.

“I'm not one for the gay stuff, but I did notice ehehe. He always pours your drink first.” She smirked with her wide toothy grin. “I think that cat has grown soft.”

Angel blinked at Niffty, but then had a soft smile of his own. “During the before battle shit I wanted to stick by the guy and enjoy his drinks and company.” He admitted with a light blush.

“I saw you two flirtin’ durin’ the whole thing!” Cherri nudged with a grin.

Charlie squeed having the same look she had when Sir Pentious confessed his crush for Cherri to her. “I'm rooting for you Angel!”

Vaggie lightly punched his arm. “You got this.”

Angel just chuckled and hugged the girls. “Daww you ladies are makin’ me blush!” He grinned. “Now which of these would Kitty like?” He asked while releasing the girls so he could dig through the box.

Charlie smiled and picked out a gorgeous starry night nail polish. “This would look so good on you, Vaggie!” She grinned as Vaggie blinked. “Alright hon, go ahead.”

Angel chuckled seeing Charlie take out a nail care kit first. “Could you do my nails too blondie?” He asked “Sure!”

Cherri blinked being tugged on by Niffty who held up a very pretty perfume bottle. “Try this, it smells really nice!” The little maid grinned, spritzing some onto Cherri’s wrist. “Oh, it's kinda got a musky scent.” She mused as Niffty nodded. “It smells nice doesn't it?”

“Reminds me of the shit Pen would wear.” Angel replied with a smirk. “Where’d ya find that one Niff?”

“I got it from the store, I also sprayed every bottle so I could find the right one.” She snickered since she made the clerk really pissed that day.

“Ya turned the store into a mustard gas situation?!” Cherri smirked and ruffled Niffty’s hair. “Yer a fuckin’ freak, I like ya.”

Angel rolled his eyes but then looked at Vaggie and tilted his head. “Hey toots, why are ya sittin’ cross legged?” He asked with a playful smirk. “Are ya tryin’ to hide your tiny ass feet?”

Vaggie flipped him off. “I don't see you taking off your heels. So you don't get to say shit.” She retorted with a smug look.

Angel grumbled and flipped her off right back. He didn't exactly like his feet, hell when he did his pornos he begged Val to keep his sexy heels on mentioning that sick fucks would be extra horny for the mystery. Cherri looked over and got up. “Hey Angie?”

“Yeah?” Angel looked at Cherri. “Wanna try on these fuckin’ sexy ass heels?” She grinned showing Angel some beautiful black leather laced up heeled boots.

The spider demon's eyes lit up as he took the shoes. “Fucking hell Cherri Bomb, where did ya get these beauties?”

Vaggie blinked and tilted her head. “Those actually look nice…” She added seeing the beautiful pink trim along the top and sole. “I know right? Bought these bitches for Angie cause the fucker loves his sexy heels.” Cherri showed a wide grin as Angel chuckled.

Charlie giggled, seeing the heels. “What are you waiting for? Try them on Angel!” She playfully coaxed, having finished applying the nail polish to Vaggie's beautiful nails.

Angel blushed a bit however looked at the girls. “Turn around for a sec and I will.” He replied looking at his glittery heels.

Vaggie noticed his hesitation and sighed. She was going to regret this but took off her own heels to reveal cute little feet making Charlie squeak. “You want me to paint these too?” She asked as Vaggie nodded.

Angel blinked at the gesture, he then looked at Cherri who looked a bit surprised but smirked. “Don't worry Angie, I'll beat any dumbfuck who messes with ya.” The bombshell grinned patting her spider boi on the shoulder.

The pornstar gulped a bit but nodded as he started undoing the buckles of his beautiful sparkly boots. He gave Vaggie a small thankful nod as the latter smiled a bit. Soon his small cute spider-like clawed feet wiggled free, tipped with his pinkish white fur and small little claws. He looked over and spotted Charlie who had removed her own shoes revealing small red hooves. “Huh…” He smiled a bit, feeling a little less awkward thanks to the two girls.

“Here catch.” Vaggie tossed Angel some beautiful glittery neon pink nail polish. “Hey thanks Vags.” He smirked looking it over.

Cherri blinked but smirked a bit. These folks were alright in her book even if some were a stickler for the rules. “Here let me apply it.” She asked Angel who blinked. “Oh sure..”

Niffty easily grabbed one of Charlie’s hooves, making the princess yelp and started to look it over. “Ooo! Kinda like what Alastor has, except yours are smaller than his..” The maid giggled only to be accidentally kicked in the face when she touched a ticklish spot.

“Shit! Sorry Niff!” Charlie gasped, looking horrified. “Yay pain!” The maid cooed springing back up from the wall she had smacked into because of the power behind the kick. “Do it again!”

Cherri just laughed. “Damn, looks like the goody two shoes has some power. Ya practically punted the tiny bitch.” She smirked as Charlie groaned. “I didn't mean to!”

Vaggie had to shoo Niffty away to keep the maid from trying to get Charlie to kick her again. “Hey Niff, check this out, there's bleach in the next room!” Angel smirked as the maid instantly scurried off with a rabid expression and grin. “Thanks…” Charlie sighed in relief.

Angel winked at Vaggie as a ‘the favor has been repaid’ gesture. The angel smirked a bit and casually started to pamper those cute little hooves. “It's a spa day isn't it, you get some pampering too princesa.” (Princess)

Charlie blushed as Vaggie massaged the ankles. She then looked over at Angel who smirked playfully. “Aww ain't that cute, betcha two get into some fun kinky shit in the bedroom eh?” He teased as Charlie started to blush and sizzle. “I think they're those vanilla type fuckers. Looks like it anyway.” Cherri smirked as Vaggie grumbled trying to pay no mind to the teasing though her golden blush was starting to show again.

The more lewd duo laughed amused at the flustered couple's reaction, though Angel smirked a bit at his painted toe nails, he soon slipped on those beautiful boots looking more comfortable.

While everyone was chatting, Charlie got a phone call. “I'll be right back, babe.” She gave Vaggie a kiss on the cheek and left to take it.

Cherri and Angel smirked at Vaggie who gave a confused look. “What?”

“Hey feather duster, wanna spice yourself up for your girl?” Angel smirked holding up some lotions. “Don't cha wanna see yer blondie practically fuckin’ sizzlin’?” Cherri chimed in with a playful smirk. Niffty giggled seeing Vaggie squirm.

“I know what she likes, I don't need your help..” The angel turned away with a cute huff. Though the golden blush gave it away that she did want to.

Angel smirked and nodded at Cherri and Niffty. “This is gonna be fun.” The spider man took out a comb and some hair products. “W-wait!” Vaggie gulped while caught off guard.

After an hour Charlie came back into the room annoyed. “Husk says that my dad and Alastor are fighting again, and they nearly burned down the lobby with a cook off..” She groaned coming back into the room. “Huh?”

Cherri and Niffty blocked her view. “And done!” Angel grinned moving away. “Go ahead and let the blondie through.”

“Ehehehe, enjoy the treat princess.” Niffty bowed and scurried away.

Cherri gave a thumbs up and moved as Charlie looked very confused. “What are..” She couldn't finish her sentence as she then spotted Vaggie.

“Hi hon..” The angel blushed with her hair looking so fluffy and wavy now. There was even a braid that brought some of the bangs back to expose the soft features of Vaggie's face. Charlie just stared as the scent of both apples and lavender filled her nose. “Ha! She's speechless!” Cherri laughed and gave a thumbs up to Angel.

Angel chuckled but blinked, coming over to Charlie. “Uh hello? You there, blondie?” He poked her, and Charlie fell over red-faced. “Whoa!”

Cherri just burst out laughing as Vaggie ran over. “Ya made her a fuckin’ knock out Angie!”

“So… pwetty…” Charlie mumbled her eyes swirling with her tail out wagging. She looked like she was drunk. “Come on sweetie, let's get you off the floor..” Vaggie easily picked up Charlie who laid like a cute little snake, her face looking dopey and in love.

Vaggie looked at Angel who gave a smug look. She grumbled but fist bumped the spider twink who grinned at his work.

Though the rumbling of the hotel made this day come to an end as Lucifer was chasing Alastor who was laughing like a mad man, with Husk coming out and shaking his head, clearly not drunk enough for this shit.

(This all started because I saw Vaggie had tiny feet and remembered the fact Angel didn't like his own feet...)

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie #cute as fuck #cherri bomb #hazbin angel dust #niffty #girls being girls #spa day cause the babies need it #spoilers for the finale #cherrisnake #huskerdust #alastor being a pest #spoiler about Sir Pentious

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jellisdraws · 3 months

Text

WIP Whenever

It’s been a while since I posted anything from my Cyberfantasy WIP so…

The helm was a vision straight out of the last century of star cruisers , retrofitted into something more functionally modern. It's dated darksteel panels were accented with rust red ironwood, and a full suite of leather chairs and stations sat vacant on either side of the conically shaped room. In the middle of the room where an old timey captain's chair may have sat, a 12 foot tall, 8 foot wide inky black egg shaped pod was welded into the floor, it's sleek sides seamed with glowing strings of runes. Past the navigation egg, the circular front viewport glowed with the purple hue of the light spilling from the Gate, the traffic ahead of them mere dots of black with their own aetheric glow of main thrusters, slowly idling their way forward, waiting their turn to warp. Wires and cables humming with magic running out of the base of the pod disappeared under the floor panelling - Was that… mahogany? - and reappeared where they linked into the various navigation and control stations across the bridge. Advancements in cognition-enhancing alchemy, magics, and technology like Jack’s own implanted cyberbrain now allowed the entire suite of operating systems for a starship like this one to be controlled by one person- a fact not lost on the starlining corporations.

Now that Automaton Intelligences were calling for equal treatment as kith, and even the corporate funded governments were having to give way in order to appease their constituents both organic and manufactured, it was far cheaper to just maintain the fewest employees possible and focus on guild busting tactics. Paying for stimulants, overtime and legal payouts when things went wrong was far cheaper than paying a living wage and hiring Shipboard AI to supplement helmsmen. The pilots guild was more or less a full fledged insurrection anymore, hijacking, blockading and destroying Corpo ships across the Unified Systems. They supposedly maintained sleeper representatives across the various starliner companies, those willing to quietly recruit new guild members or crash starships into trade hubs in firey protest. Split between the Corpos bearing down on them and the Guild’s aggressive recruiting tactics, every pilot and helmsman Jack had ever met had been either stupefyingly boring or batshit insane. She hoped this one counted among the former.

(Rest under the cut)

A voice floated out of the Comm rune on the egg, “Hey, just a heads up we’re about T minus 16 minutes to warp. Not to put too much pressure on you, but non essential systems will be going down as we warp, standard procedure, and they wont be back on till we’re headed into final approach.”

“Right.” Jack said, edging around the pod, trying to get a view of the person inside

“It's weird you know, I don't remember logging a request.”

Jack froze, waiting for alarms, waiting for the doors behind her to open, but the voice continued, “ Sometimes I forget about the small stuff though, or maybe it's an old one- glad they're finally sending someone to deal with stuff like this,” The voice was dreamy- like their attention was largely elsewhere- which Jack supposed it was; flying large scale starships was consuming work.

She finally scooted in front of the navigation egg, peering through the layers and layers of projected information and glowing sensor displays on the glass of the viewing window into the beautiful reflective eyes of a mermaid. She smiled dreamily at Jack as she floated gracefully in the suspending fluid of the egg. She was around 4 feet tall, with a slender feminine torso covered in opalescent white scales that shifted into a curling, ridged neon yellow seahorse tail. Her pale green curls were trapped beneath a pair of headphones she had pulled around her neck- the cord of which disappeared into the top of the egg. Her eyes were the color and quality of mercury, sitting prettily in a heart shaped face. She had a prominent tattoo of an incredibly buff orcish man in a navy cap and not much else along her sternum. Down the sides of her neck and collar Jack could see her gills filtering. Jack had to remind herself to look the woman in her eyes.

“Hi there,” Jack said.

“Yeah, hi,” returned the dreamy voice through the pod, though Jack couldn't see the Mermaids lips move, “Feel free to do what you need to do, We got about- oh… just under 14 minutes now.”

“Right. I don't suppose we could speed that up?” Jack asked

“Speed it up how?”

“Most ships have thrusters I believe, they are used to provide thrust. I would like there to be more thrust.”

“Oh.”

Jack unfolded the titanium blade from her hand and pressed the tip into the glass of the navigation egg with what she hoped was a menacing click, her black eyes meeting the Mermaids mercury ones, “Im hijacking the ship.”

“Oh, Okay.”

“‘Okay?’ What the fuck do you mean, ‘Okay’?”

“I was acquiescing.” the mermaid said.

“I just told you I was stealing the ship. Why would you acquiesce to that? Who says acquiesce anymore?”

“I dunno. Protocol I think.”

“Protocol says to agree to hijacking?”

“Yeah.”

“I need to be through the Hyperlane gate as fast as you can get us there…?”

“Madolyn.”said Madolyn the mermaid.

“Madolyn, hi. My name is-”

An explosion rocked the cabin as the doors in the rear blew open with a wild squeal and cracking of metal and ceramic, with a shower of blue and purple arcane sparks. The Corprobots began to force their way through the exploded doors, kicking and twisting burning out of their way.

“JACK GATHOWAY YOU HAVE BEEN FOUND NON COMPLIANT.” came a loud tinny voice followed by a short burst of gunfire.

Jack yelped and ducked behind the egg as bullets ricocheted around the cabin, struggling to flatten herself against the convex surface.

“Now please Madolyn!” She yelled

“Just feel free to call me Maddie!” she said cheerfully, righting herself in the tank and pulling her headphones back up around her ears. She began to wave her hands fluidly though the fluid, and the ship responded instantly. Jack felt herself pressed firmly into the smooth hard surface of the egg as gravity shifted in response to the acceleration. An echoing crash and the sounds of cursing revealed a corprobot had fallen off of it's feet and tangled the legs of the others.

Jack looked frantically in front of her, the aetheric glow of the gate was huge and all encompassing, trying to stay stuck behind the egg as Maddie swung the starliner in and out of traffic, avoiding the ships trundling there as she continued to accelerate towards the gate.

“Stay where you are!” came a corprobot voice, and then more gunfire, Jack hissed as a ricochet skimmed past her forearm, slicing the skin like a red hot razor. The bots were spreading out, making the precarious cover she had found increasingly tenuous. Between the shouting and gunfire she could hear Maddie cheerfully speaking to someone,

“Thats right Raxxus Control we have been spacejacked, and the culprits are accelerating us directly into the Gate!” A pause, “Nope, it does not seem like re-establishing control of the vessel will be possible.” She gave Jack a thumbs up, and Jack returned the gesture with a weak smile.

A Metallic hand grabbed Jack by the ankle and ripped her out of her hiding spot and she yelled, swinging and kicking, slamming her knife repeatedly into the torso of the corprobot holding her, the aetherium infused titanium sinking into the thick ceramic armor over and over until the bot fell in a shower of purple sparks. More gunfire from the bots- TING! A bullet lodged itself in her metal leg, she almost could have laughed until another one took her in the shoulder and she spun over the controls landing with a bone rattling THUNK on the other side of the defunct console. Maddie was still speaking,

“That's right, we are a passenger vessel, so firing on us is out of the question unfortunately. Eject them? I don't have the authority to do that sir, Im so sorry. Listen we’re about to hit the Gate, it's been lovely to talk to you- what was that? Collision?”

Jack’s eyes widened as she turned to look out the front viewport to see the prow of Starsailer emerge from the gate, followed by its masts and sails, a huge galleon from the ancient days of spacefaring, it's Draconic figurehead looking as surprised to see the Starliner as they were to see it. Maddie hewed the ship hard to port, but it was too late. Jack felt it shudder beneath her before the impact came and she was thrown across the room. She slammed hard into the ceiling, navigation egg, floor, egg again. As the starliner bounced off of the hapless Starsailer’s shields and directly into Raxxus Station itself, metal and glass and ceramic buckled as the momentum of the ship ground it further and further into the Gates’s superstructure. Jack felt the shuddering reverberations of arcane explosions before she saw them, massive roiling purple flames being ejected out of the gate with increasing intensity as the starliner crashed into it before the momentum of the spinning structure caught them and flipped the disintegrating ship entirely and the purple aetheric glow overtook all.

#Joe writes #wip whenever #wip #Cyberfantasy #cyberpunk #fantasy #fiction #writing #my writing #my oc #worldbuilding #fantasy art #character art #prosthetics #sci-fi #space

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gunilslaugh · 6 months

Note

Could I request their reaction to you being gothic and loving the dark aesthetic please 🙏

Here you go! I hope that you enjoy it! :)

All members √ • – • √

Summary: How Xdinary Heroes are with a gothic significant other.

WC:631

Warning:none

photo not mine credits to owner.

Gunli

Gunil loves that you’re unapologetically you. Your gothic wardrobe tends to be eye-catching. It even earns you some judgemental looks, but that never bothers you and it amazes Gunil. You tend to be a bit more reserved and individualistic, so moments where you rely on him makes Gunil’s heart swarm. Any time he sees something with a dark/all black aesthetic it reminds him of you. He was walking on his way to the studio when he passed a black cat. He snapped a picture of it and sent it to you with the caption. “Look you two are twinning! (It reminded me of you)”.

Jungsu

Jungsu finds your gothic style very interesting. He feels like before meeting you he has heard the term “gothic/goth” more jokingly rather than seriously, so knowing you had given him the opportunity to truly understand what goth culture is. He comes to really respect it. He’ll sometimes have you pick out his outfit for him, so the two of you can have matching dark aesthetics. He loves to take photos together with you on those days or even just in general. If you are into poetry he will write you little poems. Either sending them to you by text or writing them on sticky notes.

Gaon/Jiseok

Jiseok loves having a gothic significant other. It’s very fun for him. Once he stuck a bright neon yellow shirt into your all black closet and thought that it was the funniest thing. The unimpressed and slightly mad face you looked at him with upon seeing the shirt is something he won’t forget. He tries to get you to wear the shirt too, saying you should give color a chance. That’s just fun and games though on a serious note he does respect you and your gothicness. He’ll listen to the bands that you like and even recommend some new ones to you.

O.de/Seungmin

You being gothic is what caught his attention first. It made him want to get to know you and he’s so glad that he did. You will occasionally refer to him as your honorary goth boyfriend, since he does have some likes and qualities of the goth culture. He will have you paint his nails black for him and he will do the same for you. It takes him longer than it would if you just painted them yourself, but you don’t mind. You like the warmth that radiates from his hands as he carefully paints your nails.

Junhan/Hyeongjun

Hyeonjun finds a liking to the gothic style. Meaning that he also likes your gothic style and admires it. He really takes an interest in your accessories and often borrows them from you. Whether it’s rings, bracelets, or necklaces he likes them all. Will buy you two matching accessories that you both can wear together. Hyeongjun will make note of your favorite songs and secretly learn how to play them on his guitar. Then he will just randomly play them for you. The brightest simple breaks out on his face about how happy you got over him playing your favorite song(s).

Jooyeon

At first he didn’t understand the full meaning of what being goth/gothic was. After you explained it to him, it fascinated him. The first time he opened your closet he was stunned. It was black, it almost looked like nothing was in there, just one big shadow. If he feels like being funny he will come to you dressed in bright, vibrant colors, completely contrasting your bright aesthetic. He makes it his goal to see you wear something colorful. He enjoys listening to the music that you like and sharing songs with you, but sometimes those songs are completely out of pocket like Orange Caramel Catallena.

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fightertown-usa · 2 years

Text

as it was (iii) ( bradley bradshaw "rooster" x reader )

( gif not mine )

bradley “rooster” bradshaw x fem!reader

synopsis: in which things just aren’t the same, and it takes a life threatening accident to make rooster come to his senses and true feelings; this is taking so long i apologize hopefully this’ll be the last part

warnings: angst/fluff

note: slay moment bc i finally finished

part one part two

—

thank god maverick finally gave you all a break. and at the beach, fuck yeah. all the tension between you and rooster had really started to strain you, and hangman and rooster’s arguing wasn’t helping either. you, winter, and hangman were all on the same team along with fanboy, coyote, and a few others, while the rest were pitted against y’all. in nothing but some hot pink biker shorts and a neon yellow sports bra, you were glad you’d decided to be bold because you were blinding some of your opponents. she do be glowin tho! the game was definitely on, to say the least, as you and hangman soon began competing for “who can score the most points,” on your team. needless to say, as much as he tried to hide it, jealousy kept creeping in on rooster, wishing it was him you were competing with, and laughing with.

but was rooster really gonna let bagman steal his girl? hell no. so, he’d just have to get your attention, no matter how stupid. besides, you couldn’t deny how hot his little victory dance was after he scored. when mav got taken down, you took it as an opportunity to start running past the enemy team, before someone pushed you lightly, causing you to stumble, ball slipping from your hands as you went down. you looked up to see rooster reaching down to grab the ball, so you lunged to grab his ankle, causing him to also fall down, face first into the sand, his sunglasses flying off his face landing at an arms length away from you. the both of you broke out laughing, as both of you were covered in sand. you quickly grabbed his sunglasses, placing them on top of your head so no one would step on them. rooster got up before her, not commenting on the fact that his sunglasses were perched on top of his head. the game had shifted away from them, as the cheers of their friends slowly faded as he reached out a hand to help her get up. she accepted his help, as a wave of butterflies that she hadn’t felt in a long time filled her stomach, the same butterflies she used to get whenever she flew with him. he looked so pretty, just standing there, the sun behind him, and sand dotting his face. she reached to brush some off, electricity sparking between them.

“i’m sorry,” rooster whispers, a small frown forming on his face, as he sadly watched her. “i’m sorry i fucked up our friendship so much,” he continued, and y/n’s eyes dilated and softened as she watched him. “it’s okay, rooster, i missed being your friend,” she said, sadness pricking her voice as she said friend. “i missed you too dash,” he said softly, as he gave her hand a squeeze. he had so much more to say, but he knew she didn’t need him like he needed her. and he knew still that there were others who needed her skills more than he desired and craved her staying with him. he wanted her so badly, to know what it was like to care for her, to feel her affection, to simply be with her on a more intimate level. but there was no way she felt the same, and no way she would ever chose him over a lifetime of accomplishments. if only he knew.

- - -

“winter i need eyes on the target, maverick’s closing in,” hangman spoke urgently, as he and dasher both flew towards the practice target. “i’m trying! shit, i can’t get a good lock,” she cursed, as she tried to lock in on the practice target. “going in blind,” hangman commented, as you both immediately began to pull up as soon as he fired the missile. “miss!” you called out, hearing a string of curses from hangman in return. “mav’s on our tail dasher,” winter called out, as the pressure began building up on the two of you. your eyes began to blur as you continued. “holy shit,” you cursed, as you struggled to keep your vision straight. as soon as the two of you were out of the climb, a blaring alarm coursed through the plane. “shit, shit! winter what the hell is happening!” you cried out, as you heard winter clicking away from behind you. “shit, right engine’s overheated somehow,” she replied, panic in her voice. hangman called out something, but you were too busy as you began to extinguish the right engine, but it was no use, and soon the engine gave out. “shit, shit!” you cried out, panicked as you ignored mav and hangman calling out to eject. “dasher, we gotta eject,” winter cried out, but you refused, still trying to steer your jet. “dasher, eject, now!” you heard winter scream, as she ejected.

for the first time in your life, you froze as you heard the top of the jet pop off, as winter flew up into the sky. time froze as you continued to descend, but unlike you had expected, your life wasn’t flashing before your eyes, as your hands moved to the eject button. the world around you was quiet, as you continued to descend, your body still not moving to press the button, but finally, something snapped inside of you, as you ejected, and went flying up into the sky. the crash of the plane caused a huge explosion, and due to being so close to it, you were catapulted back, as your parachute was pushed back with tremendous force, and you began to feel woozy as you continued down towards the ground, unaware that below you were numerous trees. your vision began to fade, as you blacked out on your way down.

- - -

rooster wasn’t quite sure when he stopped breathing, but as soon as he heard you cursing from the radio, his heart stopped as he heard the panic coming from your voice as your right engine started failing. he thought he stopped breathing when he heard hangman report that he saw winter eject, but you still hadn’t. he just froze all together when he heard how close you were to almost dying in that plane, and even when phoenix called out to him, he didn’t have the capability of responding as he just sat there, unsure of your fate, and unsure if you were alive or not. the fact he hadn’t been able to tell you everything, and just how much he cared about you shook him. and if he’d even be able to tell you at all now. he stayed in the room until maverick came in, stating that the helicopter had finally brought you and winter back, and how you were being rushed to the medical wing. only then did his feet start moving, and he finally remembered to breathe, as tears fogged his vision as he began sprinting to the medical wing. he didn’t stop running until he caught sight of winter standing in the middle of the hallway, sobbing into hangman’s arms as she stood outside of what he presumed to be your room. only then did he assume the worst, as his eyes grew wide and tears threatened to spill from them. hangman noticed his presence, and he waved his hand side to side slightly, indicating that he didn’t know if you were okay or not. bradley wanted to break down right then and there as tears spilled from his eyes, uncaring if hangman saw him crying there or not. he took a seat in a chair near your room, as he awaited the doctors to come out and give him a verdict. he didn’t notice when the rest of your shared friends came around to wait with him, and he didn’t notice when hangman squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

he only perked his head up when the doctors came out of your room, assuring the group that you were stable and didn’t sustain any injuries besides a few scratches from the tree you fell into, and that you just fell unconscious due to the force of the explosion. the doctor also mentioned that you had awoken, and said to only go in a few at a time due to the fact you had just woken up.

so, bradley waited. he waited til everyone else had gone in to see you, and waited till he was the last one there, as winter told him you were asking for him.

he slowly opened the door to your room, easing the door open slowly. as he pushed open the door, he saw u propped up in the hospital bed, adorned in a gown, hair down, and a smile graced your face once you saw him enter. he offered you a smile, as he walked over, and sat down next to your bed. “hey rooster,” you said softly, and he wanted to cry at hearing your voice again. “hey dash,” he choked out, as he went to place his hand on top of yours, desperate to feel your touch to make sure you were really there. “you gave us a real good scare there, gave me one hell of a scare,” he spoke softly, and you chuckled.

“winter wouldn’t let me hear the end of it, going on about how i need to be more aware and all that shit,” you said with a soft chuckle, and rooster smiled, shaking his head slightly. “she just cares, that’s all,” he said softly, and u nodded in agreement. a moment of silent graced to the two of you before he spoke up again. “i care too, you know,” he said, and he continued on before you could say anything. “i’ve always cared, y/n, i’ve always cared about you. cared about you so much, i pushed you away so you could go save the world, and you know, live a normal life,” he said pitifully. “i loved you so i let you go,” he added on in barely a whisper, head down, staring at the edge of your hospital bed.

“oh bradley,” you said softly, sitting up a little straighter as you light pushed his chin up with your other hand so he was facing you. you looked into his brown eyes, and saw the anticipation of hurt and rejection in them, almost breaking your heart. instead of saying anything, you just pulled him into you, and as your lips connected, it took bradley a minute before he realized that the girl of his dreams, who’d he been pining over for so long, was actually kissing him, he wrapped a hand around the base of your neck, pulling you in to deepen the kiss. everything just felt so right in that moment, and all pain and sorrow left the two of you when you both realized how much you both truly cared about each other. you finally pulled away, but not before saying, “i love you too bradley,” before he scooped you right out of that bed and out of the medical wing, and off to his room. no way in hell he was planning on letting you go tonight, that’s for sure.

- - -

bonus!

“you’re a fucking idiot! you understand, an idiot!” you chastised bradley as soon as he got off the jet after maverick, a goofy grin on his face as he watched you angrily reprimand him. “you could have died bradley, d e a d, DEAD!” you continued, and he started laughing, unable to handle how hot you were when you were mad. so, instead of letting you continue venting, he just grabbed your face, and planted a kiss on your lips, instantly shutting you up. and who were you to argue? he’d make it up to you, eventually.

---

taglist:

@n3ssm0nique @alluringshawn

#rooster x reader #top gun x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #hangman x reader #topgunmaverick #maverick x reader #bob floyd x reader

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plushii-gutz · 3 months

Text

Part 5 💥💥💥💥💥🦊🧸 I'm irrelevant

☆*ﾟ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ゜ﾟ*☆

Galvana was late to wake up, their energy drained from the long night previous. Despite sleeping in, the celestial still felt oh so tired. Their mind hadn't rested - just their body. It felt impossible to move from the bed sheets. Scaratar was the first and only monster to check in on them.

"Are you awake, Galvana?" She asked. "We're having a quick meeting in the kitchen. I want you to be there!"

"Give me a second," they yawned.

"Alright. But it's important!"

Once alone, the supernatural monster threw on their usual hoodie and pants, combed out their hair, and left to wash their face. With a quick spin, they made sure to also grab the laptop they had.. borrowed, we will say. Borrowed.

Down the hall, closer to the front door, Furnoss stood on call with an unknown number. To the rest, that is. He spoke in a hushed voice, though not much of a whisper, with an occasional pause so the other end would have a moment to respond.

"No, not for a while," he hummed. "I don't want to keep them locked up in any manner, but I worry they don't fully understand how important it is to keep hidden. Syncopite has driven me mad! Well, those islands aren't technically ours anymore. Have they learned? No, they shouldn't. They understand a bit, but not much. Just enough to keep them safe. I know I can't keep it hidden forever. Maybe when they're older. Yes, dear, I know I've been saying that for years. Watch your tone! I know well what I'm doing."

Galvana paid little attention to it, instead poking their head into the kitchen. It seemed everyone, apart from themself and Furnoss, were chatting at the table and sharing stories. Taking note of Plixie being there, Galvana left for the stairs.

They inched into the plasma monster's room, placing the laptop onto her bed and sending an email with a file attached to their own device. They made sure to wipe the history and delete any saved photos, logging off completely before leaving it to be found.

Returning to the kitchen, it seems Furnoss had decided to join. Alongside him, Strombonin and a new face. The new monster seemed to be an insectoid, neon green and darker, almost black green stripes interchanging on its fur. Its head was yellow, a round eye on either side, and black markings on the top. This must be Humbug - the monster Strombonin had mentioned all that time ago. He seemed to be having a blast meeting everyone, and especially Scaratar.

"Galvana!" She stood up, glad to see them here. "This is Humbug! He'll be helping me once I move out."

"Move out," they mumbled. "Right. You're leaving soon."

Humbug held out its hand, shaking Galvana's. The poison monster led them to the table, where Strombonin turned his eyes away. Apart from the Mythical, they seemed to be having a relatively good time.

"Now that everyone is here," Scaratar began, "I might as well tell you all what's going on. Humbug here is going to come with me when I move out.. which will be in a couple of weeks."

"Weeks?" Furnoss stuttered. "You told me a couple of months!"

"Which is why is probably why we're having this meeting," Plixie remarked, "so she could tell us." There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice. Even so, she seemed off about the idea. Losing Syncopite, Attmoz, and Glaishur still left an odd hollowness in the castle. Now, Scaratar was leaving, too.

"It is," Scaratar continued. "I know I didn't give everyone an exact time, and that was my mistake. I'll make the most of what I have left. With Strombonin and Humbug's help, I'm going out into the big city!"

Furnoss hid his face in his hands. As if it weren't stressful enough knowing she would be gone.

"Hold on," Plixie sat taller. "The city? Where there's monsters everywhere, and someone is always fighting someone else? I wanna tag along! fuck yeah!"

"As much as I'd like to have one of you to travel with me, it definitely comes with its risks. Maybe when you're older, Plixie."

The plasma monster sunk back into her seat with a snort, now annoyed that only one of them would be going on an exciting adventure into the colorful lights and bustle of the streets. Torrt tapped at the table nervously.

"Uh- how exactly are you going to keep hidden? Because.. Because of all the other monsters."

"That is where I will become of assistance," Strombonin chimed in. "As of right now, the other Mythical monsters and I are working on multiple disguises to make Scaratar's appearance unrecognizable. She will be able to walk among other monsters and have no issue."

The Celestials were provided with pictures of the costumes' progress. They were mostly dresses that could hide her many limbs and build, hats and masks of every kind, scarves and mittens. The poison monster herself had plenty of input as to what she would like added or removed and seemed quite proud of her creations. Hornacle had wondered why she asked him so many questions over color theory lately. Seems he has an answer now. Furnoss didn't seem very assured.

"This - this seems very dangerous," he managed to say with a chuckle. "I don't suspect you to - to try and talk to any other monster, yes? Or be out too often?"

"What Syncopite did was stupid, but this is just ignorant," Vhamp spat. Surprisingly, it was Galvana who hushed him up.

"Furnoss," she said softly, "I understand you're worried, but I'm not a monsterling anymore. I have an Ethereal by my side, Strombonin will check with me often.. I promise you that I'll be safe."

"Where will you be staying, exactly?"

"Probably an apartment. From what I have seen, it doesn't seem as if the other monsters would pay much attention in certain areas, so I shouldn't worry too much about visitors."

"And you'll have service, right? To call us?"

"Of course, Furnoss. I'm leaving the castle behind - not our friends."

"I just- I really just think this isn't the best plan.." He trailed off, unable to finish his sentence before the rest took over the conversation with curiosity and questions. What did she have planned? Would she try to build new friendships? What was there to do in the big city? The fire celestial felt defeated. All he could do was trust her, and based on his current state of mind, it may prove to be difficult.

The meeting went on for far too long. For one of the monsters, at least. Galvana left to stand in the hallway, watching as the rest slowly exited the kitchen and returned to their rooms or chores around the castle. As they poured out, Vhamp was pulled aside.

"You have a printer somewhere, right?" Galvana asked.

"Yes," the Mech Celestial answered, a little confused as it did. "Need to use it?"

"Probably. I'll explain more in a bit."

Vhamp led the way into his room. It wasn't much decorated, the main items being anything of necessity and comfort. A collection of stickers sat on top of a drawer, next to a desk holding an old computer with a printer nearby. Following their instructions, Galvana printed a small, flimsy sheet with a black-and white photo and sat it in from of Vhamps eyes.

"Blueprints," it said monotonous. "Is that Wubbox?"

"Can you translate it?" The supernatural monster asked, ignoring the question. "I know a lot, but I don't know this."

"You do? Wouldn't have guessed that in a million years."

"Just explain to me what the hell this is. I wouldn't recommend trying to tick me off right now."

"Is that a threat?"

"It will be if you don't listen!"

Vhamp hopped back, looking Galvana over as if they expected to see a whole other monster. It wasn't common to hear their voice, even less so with such venom in it. When was the last the two have spoken? Maybe Vhamp just recalled too early in its life, when each of them were younger and oblivious - and kinder.

"Alright," he finally agreed, returning the same tone. "I'll need to draw this to a higher scale. Hand me my pencil, and we'll get started."

Happy with the other celestials cooperation, Galvana handed over the pencil. A sort of metalic flap on the side of Vhamp's body opened, a robotic claw taking the pencil in its grasp as they began to make a proper sketch of the blueprints on a larger sheet. As they went on, Vhamp began to explain each part and how the wubboxes as a whole function, any bits he didn't fully understand being left for the internet to answer. Galvana's temper cooled greatly as time passed, more bearable and perhaps a bit nice. So long as Vhamp reminded them that he was more needed in this project, they held their tongue.

Initially, Vhamp wondered why Galvana wanted to know so badly about the robotic monsters, but having done a bit of its own research, it wasn't too shocked. The wubbox was Galvana's addition to the world. Vhamp himself had looked into Reebro - his own creation. It was curiosity. Even Scaratar seemed lost in wonder when she met Humbug. The other celestials would react the same way, would they not?

Once the new, clearer blueprints had been finished, Galvana left to do the rest of the research on their own. Shockingly, Vhamp was a little disappointed to watch them leave. Sure, their entrance was hostile, but it wasn't anything it couldn't talk them down from. Neither of the Celestials were the most social with the rest. Finding out they shared an interest of creation was interesting, though. Perhaps he'll keep it in mind. For the time being, though, Vhamp carried on with his chore of cleanliness.

Galvana's research landed entirely on the plant wubbox. Each of the wubboxes had a different build, different biology, and it seemed Sage was the only of the group to be made of organic material that could live on without the electricity emitted from her core. What else did this affect? It would be far too strange to ask her directly, wouldn't it? Luckily, nothing of the wubboxes was restricted online. Anything Galvana wanted the answer to, they got.

☆*ﾟ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ゜ﾟ*☆

Glaishur wasn't surprised to wake up to an empty bed. He was confused, however, by the nearby desk and computer being empty. Attmoz was usually up by now, tapping away and taking the most mind-numbing calls known to monsterkind for work. Glaishur would usually say good morning, perhaps give the cloudy monster a peck on the cheek before running off to do the daily duties of foraging, counting supplies, whatever the cabin needed that day.

Not this morning, however. Attmoz was gone. The cold celestial felt his worries growing by the minute. Had he really pissed Attmoz off that bad? Did he leave? Was he alone? When Glaishur wasn't given an answer directly, his mind made up one. Right now, none of them were good. He was quick to get up, slipping on his jacket while under the impression his partner may be lost outside. His steps were fast, leading him to the door. He was stopped by the sound metal against the wooden floors, followed by a whole lot of swears. A peak into the kitchen revealed all he needed to know.

Attmoz stood at the stove, covered in multiple different substances ranging from syrup to eggs yolks. He seemed to have a critter-trap stuck on his tail, as well as silverware caught in his long hair and crumbs laid just about everywhere. Whatever he was attempting to make, it certainly wasn't turning out well.

"Uh.. 'Moz? You alright in there?"

The air Celestial spun around, knocking over another bowl and barely catching it in time before whatever mixture in it could spill out.

"Hey ba- gla- uh. Glaish. Babe."

"What the.. don't you have work today?"

"I took the day off."

"I... I can't tell if you're tryn'a cook or if somethin' blew up."

"Both," Attmoz answered. "Both happened. You wanted to get a new toaster anyway, right? Right."

"There's batter on ya mustache."

"I got hungry. Look, I feel like shit because of last night. I know I shouldn't have fucked with the kitchen, especially with the rules we made of combining how we wanted the cabin to be. It was even worse of me to leave you alone at night. I know we agreed to always talk stuff out, and I messed up by.. not doing that. I wanted to try and talk it out over breakfast, but-"

"You blew up the kitchen?"

"I blew up the kitchen."

"As much as I want to forgive you," Glaishur crossed his arms, more to comfort himself than to show annoyance, "You really hurt me last night. I know I probably shouldn't have kept bothering you about it, though."

"No, Glaish, you were within your right to. I broke the rule, I need to be held accountable. I don't expect this to be fixed immediately - it really was shitty of me to act the way I did. I'll make it up to you. Not with pancakes, though."

Despite how he claimed to still be upset, Glaishur assisted in cleaning the mess, even with Attmoz telling him to take a break or just wait for him to finish on his own. It wasn't too much of a chore, as most of it simply needed a wipe down and perhaps a little air freshener.

"How did you get butter on th' ceiling?"

"Slipped."

"And that pan is on fire."

Attmoz yelped, taking it off the stove top and dropping a rag over the flames to suffocate them.

Instead of undercooked eggs and soggy pancakes, they enjoyed some fruit and yogurt on the couch, some unknown reality TV show playing in the background. It was for the better.

"Alright," the air elementalist sighed. "This doesn't justify what I said or did, but I haven't been very open about, like.. how stressful this whole move has been. Or what's going on at work."

"But you wanted t' move out, right?" Glaishur asked. "We've had this planned since we met Strombonin."

"Of course, Glaishur. I'm glad we did, too. It's just really weird not being with the other celestials, you know? It's a completely different island. A different culture, different environment. There was a lot of change. I don't mean this to come across wrong, but I'm surprised at how collected you have been. All of this change just.. it came really fast. I try not to let my emotions lead my life, and I haven't been very good at that lately. I'm sorry."

"Honestly.. I feel th' same way. I don't show it, but.. I'm not really doin' all too good myself. I keep sayin' that it's only been a couple of weeks, that it'll become normal, but I'm worried that it won't. It really was a lot."

"I feel like we haven't had time to make this cabin feel like a home. The second we got here, we got to work. Never fully settled, huh?"

"Guess not," Glaishur shrugged. "It feels cozy. It feels like a home. But I think something is missing."

Attmoz nodded in agreement. It was good to know he wasn't the only one, although he also wouldn't have wished for his partner to feel the same discomfort he did.

"Now.. about my job. I know Strombonin said we didn't have to pay him back for anything, but it kinda feels selfish, you know? I know he offered to help and everything, but.. I don't know, actually, I'm just like this. I try not to ask for help, really."

"Noticed," the cold monster teased, motioning to the kitchen. "But, yeah. I know where you're comin' from."

"That aside, a coworker forwarded an email to me. The 'big guys upstairs' are debating a mass layoff. Thing is, they're replacing a lot of monsters with AI."

"You were hired a couple of months before we left Plant Island, right? Why are they gettin' rid of you already?"

"To cut costs. Business hasn't been great since our competitors got the upper hand. Me and a bunch of other newly hired monsters might be terminated for no reason other than greed. I thought, since it doesn't really matter, I'd take the day to make sure we can get on the same page again. I'll probably quit before they get the satisfaction of telling me to flee."

Attmoz moved closer, raising an arm and offering Glaishur to lean on to him for a bit of comfort. Glaishur accepted.

"I've been a real jerk lately. I don't want to let all these bad vibes fuck up everything we've worked hard on. I know I need to start talking about everything more. I'm sorry I kept it all in until it got to this point. I don't really know how to make up for all of this."

Glaishur sunk into his lover for a moment, thinking over everything he had been told. Attmoz hadn't lied to him, and this was the first time they had any sort of argument or fight. He was visibly remorseful, and although it wasn't very strong, his hand was shaking.

"I'll give ya some grace," the purple monster decided. "I know you didn't mean it. I'm gunna be upset about all of this, though."

Attmoz wheezed, as if he were holding his breath this whole time.

"Thank you. I didn't think that would change."

"You think I'd say no?"

"I mean.. maybe. I would have."

Glaishur looked up, seemingly unimpressed.

"Ah, don't listen to me. Alright, what do you wanna do today?"

He rolled onto his back, looking up at the ceiling and debating. He wasn't super energetic after having to clean up the kitchen, as well as the sleepless night. Snowfall was light outside, as it always was. It was day, and not much could be done without the risk of being seen.

"What do you have in mind?" He asked the pink monster.

"Hmm.. well, I'm definitely no cook. Can't help you there, as much as I'd like. I was thinking.. something we used to do. You know, like sneak out together, explore the woods a lil deeper, maybe even make another board game. Heh, can't believe we left that behind. I hope it's being put to good use. You know how Furnoss would use it to distract the rest? Wonder if he still does that. Oh, we could wait until later tonight and head into town! Actually, no. We aren't as small as we used to be. Eh, maybe we could. What do you think? Glaishur?"

Looking down, the cold monster had taken the opportunity of Attmoz's distraction to doze off into a warm slumber. It seemed he was making up for the night previous, now huddled close and comfortable.

"Why do gay monsters nap so damn much?" Attmoz mummbled jokingly, brushing some of Glaishur's hair from his eye.

Attmoz spent the morning making a mental list of what he and Glaishur should do for the day. Whatever he came up with, he'd be sure they both agreed on it. He may need to contact Strombonin at some point, though. The situation with work wasn't going to get any better. The worry began to crawl back. But the sight of his home, his partner, his commitment; it kept him in the moment.

Attmoz wasn't going to let the day be driven by the madness that had struck him before. That was behind him. Now, his only job was to make this house a home.

#my singing monsters #fallen stars msm #msm #fallen stars au #msm au #msm oc #fanfiction

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thedreamworldlibrary · 4 months

Text

Nothing Bad Happens Chap. 2- Welcome to Dreamworld, Wiatt

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! My Christmas Gift to you all~ The next chapter is here! I’m glad you guys have been enjoying this so far!

I was working on this story in the days leading up to season 2 of WTDW, and it was worth it! Also, I saw episode 1 of Season 2 and SOO MANY IDEAS are gonna happen in this fanfic, Until I Found You, and any other fanfics I have planned for WTDW!!

Also please check out Until I Found You when you have time, it’s a crackship fanfic, but I’m having so much fun writing it!

BIG thanks to @gigilefache for being my beta reader!!

Enjoy!

While Lewis was showing Wiatt the Staract, the other founder of DWE, Sara, was typing away on her computer. A knock was heard at the door as she was working.

“Come in,” Sara said.

The door opened, revealing to be Oliver, another of Dreamworld’s Founders. “H-Hey Sara.” Oliver stuttered.

“Oliver!” Sara exclaimed, seeing her best friend nervous. “What’s going on? You okay?”

“Y-Yeah, just, umm…” Oliver trailed off, nervous about what to say to Sara.

Sara sighed, as much as Oliver was her best friend, she didn’t like how nervous Oliver would get when it came to sharing news with her. “Oliver, we're friends, you don’t have to be nervous sharing anything with me.” She reassured him.

“Not even if it’s about…” Oliver started, before mumbling Wiatt’s name.

“Sorry, what was that?” Sara asked.

“Even if it’s about…Wiatt.” Oliver repeated, sounding a bit louder.

“Can you say it a little louder?” Sara asked once again.

“Even if it’s about Wiatt,” Oliver repeated once more. This time louder, like Sara requested.

Sara’s smile dropped, hearing Wiatt’s name. She hadn’t heard that name in weeks and thought Lewis had forgotten all about him. However, he’s finally at Dreamworld Entertainment. “You mean the Wiatt we met in high school? The Wiatt who Lewis dated?”

“Is there any other Wiatt we know of?” Oliver asked.

Sara sighed and tried to calm down. After a few deep breaths, she asked Oliver again. “Why is Wiatt here?” She asked.

Oliver was about to speak up when Lewis came in with Wiatt. “Because I want to work here!” Wiatt replied, giving a smug smile.

Oliver and Sara turned to see their old schoolmate show up, which made Sara glare at him while Oliver gave a nervous smile.

“Hey, Oliver!” Wiatt beamed, before turning to Sara and glaring at her, “Sara.”

“Wiatt,” Sara replied, doing the same.

The two stared at one another as Oliver and Lewis felt the tension between their friends. It was so bad it couldn’t be cut with a knife. “W-What do we do?” Oliver whispered to Lewis.

“Same as we always do,” Lewis whispered back. He then clapped his hands and let out a nervous chuckle. Sara and Wiatt turned to face their friend. “Well isn’t this a nice reunion!”

Sara and Wiatt glanced at each other before glaring at Lewis. They knew he was trying to break the tension, but Lewis wasn’t gonna give up.

Lewis’s smile dropped as he groaned, “Well I tried, darling.” He said to Oliver.

Seeing her friend disappointed, Sara sighed, “I guess I have no choice.” She started. “Welcome to the Dream Team, Wiatt.”

Wiatt chuckled, “Dream Team?” He asked.

“D-Don’t laugh!” Sara shouted, feeling offended. “I think it’s a good name for our Dreamworld employees.”

“I agree with her,” Oliver spoke up.

Sara smiled proudly seeing her best friend agreed with her.

“Well then,” Lewis interrupted. “Let’s get you into uniform, darling!” He put his arms around Wiatt and took him to the employee uniform room to find a good uniform for Wiatt.

Sara decided to go first to help pick out Wiatt’s uniform and decided to go for Cheer’s uniform, which was a pink shirt decaled with a yellow and neon green lightning bolt and pink pants.

However, Wiatt didn’t look like he enjoyed the uniform one bit.

“There! You look great, Wiatt.” Sara complimented.

Wiatt glared at her, “Sara, this is more your choice of color.” He said.

Sara looked at her friends who agreed with Wiatt. She groaned, and soon Oliver spoke up, “My turn I guess.”

Oliver gave Wiatt a Ribbondancer uniform, which was green with different color patterns over it, as well as a pair of dark green pants. Wiatt preferred this uniform, but it still wasn’t something he would wear.

“I think this is better, don’t you agree?” Oliver asked.

Lewis and Sara looked at one another both agreeing that the shade of green wasn’t Wiatt’s color.

Oliver frowned knowing his friends didn’t like it. “You don’t like it, do you?” He asked.

“Well…” Sara and Lewis said at the same time, both trailing off as they tried to think of something nice to not upset their friend. The two let out words like, “It’s okay, it’s fine, or it’s green.”

Oliver wasn’t convinced knowing they were just trying to be nice. Wiatt saw how disappointed Oliver looked, and decided to speak up. “It’s nice, but I’d like to try on one more uniform before making my decision.”

Lewis knew he hadn’t helped Wiatt pick out a uniform yet, and he had an idea of what the perfect uniform and position Wiatt could have. “Leave it to me, darling, I got the perfect uniform for you.” He said, taking Wiatt’s hand and taking him deeper into the closet.

It took a few minutes, but soon Lewis came out with Wiatt wearing a Starlight-themed uniform. This uniform was a vest split into teal and yellow over a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves, a pair of dark blue pants, and a dark blue and orange cap over his head.

“Sara and Oliver, meet Dreamworld’s newest mechanic!” Lewis introduced as Wiatt stepped up smiling.

“Hey, looking good Wiatt!” Oliver exclaimed.

“Thanks! This seems perfect for me!” Wiatt replied.

“See, I know what you like darling,” Lewis said.

Wiatt and Lewis shared a laugh, which made Sara glare at the two. Oliver saw his friend’s glare and got up and went to his best friend and his best friend’s boyfriend. “Well,” Oliver spoke up, “shouldn’t we introduce Wiatt to the rest of the group?”

“Oh! Of course!” Lewis exclaimed. “Wiatt, let me introduce you to everyone.”

“Thanks, Lewis,” Wiatt replied. The two walked out of the dressing room, talking with one another.

“It’s nice to see these two together again,” Oliver said.

Sara quickly changed her expression and gave a false smile, “Y-yeah. It’s nice.” She lied.

Oliver smiled and followed Lewis and Wiatt out of the dressing room.

Once he was gone, Sara frowned and turned away. She didn’t like Wiatt being here one bit, it brought back the painful memories and anxiety over losing Lewis. She almost lost him once due to her stupid ideas, and now his boyfriend is back in town.

“Don’t worry Sara, I’m here.” A deep voice whispered as red eyes appeared behind her.

Soon, Lewis and Oliver watched as Wiatt talked with the other Dreamworld workers. Everyone seemed to get along with Wiatt well.

Starlight was passing by and saw Wiatt with the other workers. “I see Wiatt is getting along great with everyone.”

“He is,” Lewis replied.

Starlight saw Lewis frown and turn away from Wiatt before walking off. “I thought he would be happy seeing his boyfriend back.” He pointed out.

“Ex-boyfriend.” Oliver corrected.

Starlight’s eyes widened, “pardon?” He asked.

“Wiatt and Lewis broke up two years ago. Sure they kept in contact, but the two haven’t been in a relationship in two years.” Oliver explained.

Starlight frowned and looked at Wiatt before turning to Lewis who was now entering the employee-only entrance.

~~~~~~~~~~

Not to drop spoilers, but that whole scene with Oliver picking out Wiatt’s uniform and choosing green was written before episode 1 dropped!

Also, have a Happy Holidays and New Year's everyone!!!

#welcome to dreamworld #wtdw #sara covetmen #nothing bad happens au #nbh au #Lewis Bright #wiatt nicholson #oliver acrimony #wtdw Starlight

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call-sign-shark · 1 year

Text

⚡ BY THE EYE OF THE STORM || CHAPTER 1⚡

SERIES INFO || INTRO

Pairing: Rooster x Pilot!reader, Bradley Bradshaw x you

Hangman x Pilot!reader, Jake Seresin x you

Summary: Rooster overheard your argument with Jake and, while trying to comfort you, you both end up drunk at the Hard Deck. The next morning, you’re hungover during training. But worst than that, Maverick tells you who will be your wingman for the mission…And you're not going to like it.

Words: 2.6K

Tag list: @dempy @callme-fox @djs8891 @desert-fern @potato-girl99981 - Ask if ya want me to add you to the taglist 💚

The salty breeze of the sea filled your lungs with its comforting fragrance. The anger that had started to blossom within lightened up. You ran your hand through your Y/HC hair and looked at Shark again. She was facing the sea, arms crossed on her chest and her celeste blue eyes fixed on the horizon. The sun was setting, turning the sky into a breathtaking watercolor painted in shades of orange, yellow, and pink. The peaceful landscape swiped Hangman's words away. He was a douchebag, plain and simple. Decided to not let this unfortunate fight ruin your evening, you nudged Shark, who jumped very slightly for she was lost in her thoughts.

"Wanna go to the Hard Deck? Tomorrow's training gonna be exhausting and probably frustrating, so it could be a good idea to relax with a few beers."

Shark's ferocious smile widened even more, showing her sharp teeth: "That's a helluva good idea. Don't text your ex this time."

"Come on! I thought we wouldn't talk about it anymore!"

"Oopsie." She said, in the most candid tone she could.

You rolled your eyes but could not help smirking. Crossing the beach, your dear friend and you headed to the Hard Deck, from which cheerful music was coming. You opened the door, welcomed by the pleasant smell of wood. You had hardly entered the pub when the charming brunette behind the counter raised one hand to wave at you. She had been talking to your instructor, Maverick, but stopped in the middle of her conversation to welcome you. Your instructor instinctively looked at you, curious to know what monopolized Penny's attention all of sudden. His green eyes sparkled with light amusement when he noticed you and Shark - his two new recruits. Maverick greeted you with a small nod. You greeted both of them, before disappearing into the ocean of human bodies that were dancing and chatting. Little you knew that Mav's eyes followed your movements until he could not see you and Shark anymore.

Zigzagging between the soldiers, you found a small place on a sofa near the pool table. Shark hastened to sit there, almost bumping into another man.

"Sorry mate, that's mine." She exclaimed, snapping her jaws to pretend she was about to bite him. The man, who was already acquainted with both of you, grinned and look at you. He shook is head, accepting his defeat, and tried to find another place to sit. You focused back on your best friend and winked at her.

"Keep our seats, I'm going to grab two beers. And don't bite anyone, Fish head."

The bubbly blonde made a finger guns gesture at you. Sometimes you wondered how such a reckless girl could have made it through the aviator training, but how glad you were to have such a loyal friend. You made your way, snaking in and out the other soldiers until you reached the counter. You leaned over, pressing your forearms on its wooden surface to try to get Penny's attention, who was busy trying to keep up with the flood of customers waiting for their drinks. A slow exhale went out your nostrils, for you knew you would have to wait for a bit. Your understanding nature kept you from interrupting the poor barmaid. As she was pouring beer into a glass, Penny glanced at you. You could easily read the word “sorry” shining in her eyes like the blinking neons of a futuristic ad. You smiled at her to reassure her worries: you could wait.

As minutes passed, you started tapping the wooden counter with your fingers. Not that you were impatient, but due to the lack of stimulation your mind decided to replay the most frustrating event of this afternoon: the argument you had with Jake Seresin. As much as you hid it, his words slightly hurt you. The past years had been rough: you worked incredibly hard to become a renowned young aviator. All your successes, all your reputation, you owed it to no one but you. Who did he think he was to assess that you did not belong here? Blood rushed in your heart, fueling its pumps with nascent anger. The mere souvenir of his mischievous green eyes and his arrogant flat-lipped smirk would not leave your brain. You clenched your jaws and brought your hand to your face to pinch the bridge of your nose. Inhale, exhale, you thought.

Inhale … Exhale… You can do it.

You forced your mind to focus on your breathing. Fortunately, each breath slowed your buzzing thoughts down. Little by little your heart got back to its normal pace.

“Rough day?” Said the deep voice of the man sitting next to you.

You turned your head, eyebrows frowned. The man lowered his RayBan Caravan sunglasses on his nose to dig his brown eyes into yours. His eyes, shining with a playful gleam, were like two dark amber stones adorning the sun-kissed skin of his attractive face.

“Yeah, rough day Bradshaw.”

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw. You already knew him, for you had met this morning right before Maverick’s briefing. Even though you did not talk to each other, he was the first member of the Dagger Squad you noticed when you entered the meeting room. Rooster took the last sip of his beer and put his glass on the counter.

“Congratulations for joining the Dagger Squad. I’m looking forwards to flying with you.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” You gave him a sincere smile. Kind words were more than welcomed after such an emotionally taxing day. “I hope you’re not going to wake up singing though. I tend to be grumpy in the morning.” You said, referring to his call sign.

“Nah,” Rooster laughed. A deep and warm laugh, “ I only sing at night. Mostly for ladies to come and run their hand through my feathers.” He almost cooed, wiggling his eyebrows in a fake flirtatious fashion.

“Sounds like a pathetic way to get girls,”

Your teasing words brought a smile to Rooster’s lips. As he did, his perfectly shaved mustache followed the movement of his mouth, “pathetic but effective.”

“Such a big mouth for a small bird.”

“Not as big as yours, considering how you spat poison at Hangman.” Your eyes widened at Jake’s mention. Noticing your visceral reaction, Rooster went on “I don’t blame you. Quite the contrary. I was happy to see someone shutting Seresin’s mouth. Somehow I am pretty sure that douche is born with the unusual gift of getting on people’s nerves by his mere existence.”

You snorted in a laugh, but the resentment was still burning within you. Rooster observed you from the corner of his eyes, noticing the almost invisible changes on your face. He had overheard your fight with Hangman earlier in the day.

“Listen, don’t take his petty remarks into account. When we met he snapped at me right before we exchanged a single word. It was kind of similar to your situation. But you know… I am pretty sure that he does so only to the people he considers as a threat to his ego. “ Rooster paused only to wink at you, “ and he does not deserve such a beautiful girl to worry about what he thinks. Fuck him and fuck your doubts. Just do.”

“I know but-“

“Nope, fuck him,” He cut you off before you could finish your sentence, “Say it.”

“Roo-“ You stopped as you saw the tall pilot pressing his fingers on his lips, “Alright. Fuck Hangman.” You concluded, unable to hold the chuckle Rooster managed to give you.

“Now that’s the spirit, honey.”

Bradshaw pulled his sunglasses up his nose and raised his hand to get Penny’s attention, the lovely brunette had survived the rush of customers and was now able to take care of your orders. She went back to you with an adorable smile and looked at the curly pilot with her blue eyes.

“Another beer?” She pretended to guess but the truth was she knew Bradley far too well.

“Two, please. The other one is for Storm.”

“Alright.” As soon as he finished his sentence, Penny poured beer into two glasses and placed them in front of the two young pilots.

“That’s nice, really, but I don’t want to make Shark wait any longer.” You made a brief movement with your head to indicate your best friend who was sitting on the sofa a few meters away. Rooster’s eyes followed the direction you indicated. He raised an eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t worry about your friend. She‘s not alone- and she already has a drink in her hand.” He stated, smirking.

The surprise on your face was priceless to Bradley. You turned your head to check on Shark. As your Y/EC fell on her, you realized that she was busy talking to Captain Pete Mitchell. In fact, Maverick had ordered two drinks and left the counter to offer her a beer. While you were unable to hear their conversation, you noticed that they were laughing. You scratched your head, a bit discomfited by such an unexpected sight. Seemed like you could share a drink with Rooster without worrying about Shark being all alone after all. The confusion soon vanished from your face, turning into mild amusement.

“Okay Rooster, you’ve won.” You surrendered.

Rooster raised his glass for you, his grin sublimating his sun-kisses face. “I always win, little Storm. Cheers.”

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

The massive headache with which you woke up was battering your skull with the gentleness of a jackhammer. You groaned, putting on your sunglasses to hide your eyes from the blinding light of the morning. Maybe you should not have drunk a beer with Rooster. Or, maybe you should not have drunk many beers with Rooster. Admittedly, you lost count after five. You opened the tap to fill the glass you were holding with cold water. Bringing it to your mouth, you gulped the blessed liquid with untamable thirst. A sight of relief escaped from your lips. You had been so dehydrated by last night’s alcohol intake that your mouth felt like a desert of burning sand. Last evening’s events were still a bit foggy, but what you could remember was you and Rooster singing Highway to Hell from AC/DC at the top of your lungs, standing on the bar counter. Somehow, you managed not to fall on the ground in spite of your wobbly and drunk balance. You, who hated drawing attention, clearly embarrassed yourself with Bradshaw.

You zipped your pilot overall to the top and left your bedroom, wondering how you will manage your training day with that hangover of yours. A pleasant breeze of air jumped at your face when you stepped outside. You took a deep breath for it gave you the impression to relieve the pain in your head. As you walked through the base’s landing strips, you mentally promise yourself to stop alcohol the night before flight training anymore.

Shark was already waiting for you, leaning against the hangar’s metallic wall with a lollipop stick between her sharp fangs. The candy’s shape was visible through her cheek. Her pale eyes lightened up when they saw you, “Heyaaah Raingirl. How’s your hangover?”

“Awful,” You grunted, “I should not have drunk so much. You should have stopped me.”

“Actually… I did. But you told me, beginning of the quote “ Don’t worry Sharky I’m like Legolas in The Lord of the Rings. I don’t even feel tickles in my fingertips!” End of the quote.”

“Oh my God.” You could not help but facepalm yourself.

“Needless to say that it was hilarious.” She added, her grin turning into a carnivorous smile filled with razor teeth.

“Thank you Fish head. I really appreciate your support.” You said, sarcastic. “I don’t even know how I managed to find my way back to our room.”

“Rooster carried you to bed.” She shrugged, holding a chuckle.

“Awesome.” You retorted with a sardonic smile.

The other members of the Dagger Squad had arrived at the hangar. They were scattered in small groups, chatting with each other before the beginning of training. You shook your head and leaned towards Shark, “Enough babbling about me. I saw you drinking with Maverick. Care to explain?” You asked, lowering your voice. Your words were coated with playfulness. The blonde girl bit into her lollipop, the candy crushed against her sharp teeth in a powerful crackling sound. She raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing interesting. He wanted to know more about me. I guess that’s what a good instructor would do: learn more about his new students.” She shrugged, but you could notice the faint rosy color that had bloomed on her pale cheeks. You frowned, at such an unusual reaction. There was something else. A million questions were burning your lips, but you knew it was not the right moment to ask.

“Hmhm. I guess.” You said, swiping off the topic for now.

You looked at the watch on your wrist to check the time and sighed, “ Come on. The morning briefing will start soon.” You put your hands in the pockets of your military overalls and entered the hangar. Walking through the chairs to find yours, your gaze caught Rooster’s silhouette in its corner. He was already sitting, playing with his balljoint pen by pressing repeatedly on the button to produce a clicking sound. Bradshaw raised his brown eyes towards you. As soon as they fell on you, his charming tanned face lightened up with a teasing smile. God knew how he looked so fresh and energetic after getting wasted with you all evening. You gave him a little slap behind the head when you passed him by. Even though you did not turn around you heard his chuckles. There was your seat, next to Shark’s. You took your place and stretched your body, yawning. That was going to be another harsh day: you hoped that damn headache would disappear before you hop in your jet. Suddenly, silence fell down the place.

“Morning, aviators.” Maverick’s voice erupted. His footstep were echoing in the whole hangar as he walked in front of the squad. He turned around, dropped the thick folder he was holding on the table, and raised his piercing green eyes to his audience. Shark, who was lazily slumped in her chair, sat up straight at the instructor’s glance.

“Today you’re going to fly in formation as you would do during patrols. You will only have two difficulties. The first one is not crossing the established perimeter I made for you. If you do so, you’re dead. And for the second one… We’ll see that during the flying session.” The charismatic brown-haired instructor opened the folder that was in front of him: “Now, I am going to announce the teams. Keep in mind that your teammate won’t change. The pilot you start the training with today will be the one who’ll fly with you during the patrols.”

You listened to Maverick’s words carefully, exchanging a quick look with Shark.

“Payback and Fanboy.”

You took a deep breath.

“Phoenix and Bob with Coyote”.

You exhaled.

“Shark and Rooster.”

You frowned. Wait, why were you not teamed up with your usual wingman?

“Storm and Hangman.”

Your heart missed a beat.

It was a fucking nightmare.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

[ACCEPT IT LIKE A CHALLENGE] or [GO TALK TO MAV TO CHANGE HIS MIND]

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